


Two for One

by reddhede



Series: Right Back Home To You [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baker Harry Styles, Birth, Birth complications, Emergency c-section, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry and Louis have a daugher, Liam/Niall wedding, M/M, Married Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Miscarriage, Mpreg Harry, Mpreg Louis, Parenthood, Pregnant Liam, Stress/Anxiety, Twins, Unplanned Pregnancy, Writer Louis, everyone lives because i'm too sentimental to kill off my characters, fast labor, pre-term labor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 87,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddhede/pseuds/reddhede
Summary: Four years after the birth of their daughter, the Tomlinson-Styles are ready for a new addition to their family.  Of course, their plans never unfold in quite the way they expect.





	1. The Next Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This story is a continuation of my first work, Better Late Than Never; although not essential reading, it may provide context for some of the situations that arise.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for lending your time and attention to these words - I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them!

Harry’s steady fingers had crafted thousands of confections to absolute perfection.  They could swirl a cap of frosting on a cupcake with inhuman speed, pipe oil paintings onto cakes and cookies, and shape fondant into life-like replicas.  It was what had earned his fledgling bakery an esteemed – if short-lived – reputation, and what had allowed his subsequent online business to thrive and flourish in the years since it had closed.

Everyone was familiar with Harry’s handiwork, which was why he got more than a few perplexed looks when he brought out the cake for their daughter’s fourth birthday party… and it looked very much like she herself could have been the one to have decorated it.  He couldn’t help it that he couldn’t focus, or that his hands couldn’t stop shaking.

Not since those two little lines appeared on the pregnancy test he’d taken that morning.

Harry had convinced Louis that they should start trying for another child just after Rose’s second birthday.  (“It’s not like it’ll happen right away, Lou; plus it’ll be another nine months after that before it’s actually born, and by then she’ll be at least three and we want them to be close enough in age that they can still play together…”)  Eventually, Louis agreed just to shut him up about it – it wasn’t like Louis was going to be the one carrying it this time anyway.  Let Harry be the one to deal with trying to keep up with a walking, talking toddler while a watermelon was lodged between his hips.

So, they had been trying to have another baby for about two years now.  At first, Harry had insisted on taking pregnancy tests religiously.  Every week, in fact.  The lady at the drugstore around the corner knew them quite well by now, and tended to give them a sympathetic look every time they had to come in to buy more.  Eventually once a week became once a month, then just whenever Harry insisted that he felt “off”.  It had been a while since Louis had even been there for the actual test-taking (which, alright, Harry couldn’t really blame him for that; every time the one mocking line showed up Harry ended up in a right foul mood for the rest of the day.  Louis always seemed to know anyway, but at least he wouldn’t have to hear the speech again about how he should stop taking them if they made him so unhappy.)

But now here he was, finally proper up the duff, and he had to hold his damn tongue so as not to steal their daughter’s thunder.  Since the day was special for both her and her parents, they had always vowed to dedicate the day to Rose and save the celebration of their anniversary for the evening after she went to bed.

Of course Harry wanted to defend himself when his creation was mocked for its resemblance to Hagrid’s cake in Harry Potter, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth he would not have been able to keep his own secret locked inside.  So, he settled for scowling at the party guests and waving the serving knife threateningly in their direction.

“She’s four and it’s pink – it’s perfect, love,” Louis assured him, wrapping his body around Harry’s back and his arms around his waist. 

Harry couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face, thinking of the life growing beneath his husband’s hands and wondering how long it would be before he could no longer reach all the way around.  He spun around in Louis’ grasp and leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose.  “You’re perfect,” he countered, placing another kiss in the center of his forehead.

Louis simply rolled his eyes, having long ago given up arguing that particular point with his husband.  He scanned the backyard for Rose, preparing to call her to the table for cake and presents, but when he found her his lips turned down into a pout.  “Oi, Ni!” Louis called, beckoning Niall to their side.  Liam trailed closely after – the two were practically inseparable – and Louis almost rolled his eyes again.

“Cake time?” Niall asked, a little too hopefully.

Louis narrowed his eyes.  “Just what does your nephew think he’s doing?” he asked, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of the young boy.

Though nearly twice her age, Theo was patiently allowing Rose to lead him around the garden, dragging him by her little hand and showing him all her toys and talking away about the elaborate personalities she’d constructed for them.  He even picked one of the few wildflowers left in the yard before winter and handed it to her, at which point she beamed and clutched it to her chest like it was a rare jewel rather than a backyard weed.

And Louis didn’t like it one bit.

“Boy can’t help it if he’s got the Horan charm and dashing good looks,” he said, striking a pose and flashing a crooked grin.

“Just make sure he keeps it in his pants,” Louis grumbled.

“He’s seven.”

“And it’s not like you’ve got any room to talk there,” Liam added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye before taking a victorious sip from his wine glass.

Louis scoffed, indignant, but when he turned to Harry for some support, he just shrugged.  “We’ll see if you still feel that way when you two start poppin’ ‘em out,” Louis said casually, leaving Liam practically choking on his drink while Niall simply continued cackling.

Liam scowled at Niall, who was unapologetically stuffing pigs in a blanket into his mouth, before turning back to Louis’ smug expression.  “Well, we might not have the chance if he keeps risking his life eating the food you made.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten alright at cooking.”  All three stared at him with eyebrows raised, and Louis sighed in exasperation.  “Alright, I’m better at least.  Haven’t had the fire alarm go off in months.”

“Well, there was that time last week…” Harry began before Louis elbowed him in the ribs.

“Were you making mac and cheese again?” Liam asked with a knowing smirk.

“Oh fuck off,” Louis hissed quietly.  “That was one time – _one time_ – I forgot to put the water in.  And I was drunk at the time.  At least I didn’t get something stupid permanently tattooed on my body while under the influence.”

Liam narrowed his eyes.  “Yeah, you get stupid ones even when you’re stone cold sober!”

Niall stepped between the bickering friends just as Louis lunged at Liam.  “Think of the children!” he cried dramatically, caught in the crossfire of their misplaced blows.

“Alright, alright,” Harry said in his best fatherly tone, “that’s enough.”  He wound his arms around Louis’ midsection and easily lifted him up and away from the ruckus.  “I think Lottie could use a hand watching the kiddos, yeah?”

“Fine,” Louis huffed, giving Liam one last glare before stalking over to the face painting station where his sister was currently adding the finishing touches of glitter to an elaborate butterfly design she’d drawn on their next door neighbor’s little girl.

“Were you sent to time out for not playing well with others again?” she asked without looking away from her work.

“Liam was being a wanker,” he explained, plopping down in the grass next to her chair.

“Mommy says we’re not supposed to use that word,” the little girl – Kyra – said.

“Your mommy is correct.  Mr. Louis is just upset and has trouble expressing himself in a healthy and socially acceptable way.”  Lottie smiled sweetly over at her brother, who was unamused by her observation.  “All done,” she announced, appropriately ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing over Kyra’s transformation.  

Kyra skipped away with an extra spring in her step to join some other kids in the bounce house, leaving the two siblings alone.  They sat in blissful silence for a while, until Rose spotted them and bounded over.

“Papa!”  Her little arms wrapped around Louis’ torso and she nuzzled her face into his neck.

“What a beautiful princess,” Lottie said with a reverent bow.

“I’m not a princess, I’m a _flower_!” she corrected with an eye roll and a giggle.

“I think it was the tiara that threw her off, love.”  Louis tapped at the sparkly crown on Rose’s head.

“Oh yeah!” she exclaimed with another giggle.  “Papa, I have something for you.”

“Oh?  And what’s that?”  Rose pulled away and stood up so that she was about eye level with him.  She stretched out her arm, and clutched in her fist was a slightly wilted and crumpled dandelion.  “Didn’t Theo give you that?” he asked, only slightly bitterly.

“Uh huh, yes.  But Theo said you get flowers if you’re special and I’m special ‘cause it’s my birthday but you’re special every day and so you should get a flower too,” she said all in a jumbled mass on a single breath.

It was moments like this that Louis felt unworthy of the gift that was his daughter.  She saw the beauty and value and wonder in things that the world had labeled otherwise.  She wore her heart on her sleeve and shared it bravely and unsparingly with those she deemed worthy.  And she was so sure about the overwhelming goodness of life that rather than clinging tightly to the things she feared losing, she gave them away freely to bring that joy to others.

“It’s, uh… it’s beautiful, baby girl,” he said, clearing his throat.  “Thank you.”  Rose just smiled proudly and bounced away like it was no big deal.

“Never gets old, does it?” Lottie asked, noting the unshed tears in his eyes.

“No, I don’t believe it does.”

Lottie chewed on her lip for a moment.  “Can I ask you something?”  Louis hummed in acknowledgement, still focused on twirling the flower in between his fingers.  “How did you… like, how did you know you were ready?”  At this, Louis looked up at her and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.  “For- for her?”

“What do you mean?”  Louis’ eyes widened.  “Shit, Lottie!  Are you saying—are you—?” 

He was scrambling to get to his feet when Lottie put a steadying hand on his shoulder.  “No, no, I’m not pregnant.”

Louis plopped back down on his butt and clutched his hand over his heart.  “Fuck, give a guy a heart attack why don’t you.”

“It’s just, well Don has sort of been hinting about it.  About wanting a baby.”

“Is that what you want?”

Lottie shrugged, a bit shyly.  “I dunno.  I mean, maybe?  I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

“As Liam is so fond of reminding me, I’m not exactly the poster child for planned pregnancy, Lots.”

Lottie rolled her eyes.  “Fuck off, you know what I mean.  I just… I feel like a mess most days.  It took years for me to finally commit to actually marrying Don.  And a baby is just so, well…”

“Permanent?  Life-changing?  Scary?”

Lottie nodded.  “You’re just so good with Rose.  And I don’t—I’m not sure I could do… all that.”  Louis busted out laughing – he couldn’t help it.  “What?”

“Jesus, Lottie, do you remember what I was like when I first found out about Rosie?  Or the first few weeks we had her home?  Hell, even now I still can’t make a decision without second guessing every choice I make.”  He got up on his knees and looked up into his sister’s conflicted face.  “But I have a partner I trust, and I love her more than anything.  We’re both just doing the best we can and that’s all anyone can do.”  She nodded, and Louis got fully to his feet.  “So, if this is something that you decide you want, then you’ve already got everything else you need to be a really great mum.”

Lottie stood and clung tightly to her brother for a moment before Niall screaming, “CAAAAKE!” cut across the yard.

“Guess we better get over there before Niall gets to it and there’s nothing left for the kids.”

Louis kept a close eye on Theo, making sure to sit him on the opposite end of the table from his daughter as the cake was served.  He watched as Niall bent down and whispered something in his ear, then scowled as the boy nodded, got up from his seat, and walked confidently over to the birthday girl.

“Theo!” she squealed in delight.

“Miss Rose,” he acknowledge with a small bow, which everyone but Louis seemed to find utterly endearing.  “I thought you might like my piece of cake, since it has a rose on it, and you’re Rose, and it’s your birthday.”  He looked back at his uncle for confirmation that this was the correct thing to say, and Niall gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

The little shit.

Rose’s big eyes got impossibly wider and she unleashed the full force of the dimpled smile she’d inherited from her daddy, wiggling around in her seat until Theo could slide smoothly in next to her.  Louis had every intention of storming over and intervening when he felt Harry’s arms snake quickly around his torso.

“Let’s at least wait until she can count past twenty before we start issuing threats of bodily harm, yeah?” he whispered into Louis’ ear with a laugh.

Louis would have put up more of a fight, but then Harry’s lips were doing more than forming words.  They brushed against his temple in what would have been a chaste kiss, had they not then traveled lower and lower, parting just enough for his tongue to tempt and tease the sensitive skin along his neck.  Louis had been biting his lip to keep from making the many inappropriate noises Harry’s ministrations usually elicited, but couldn’t help the startled yip that escaped when he bit down playfully into the flesh of his shoulder.

“Harold!” he chastised, swatting at the mass of hair that was still nestled in the crook of his neck.  Harry toned it down a bit as he left a more socially acceptable trail of kisses back up to his ear, but Louis still groaned at the unreleased tension.

“Sorry, love.  Can hardly wait for tonight.”

Louis sighed and leaned back heavily into Harry’s chest, wrapping his arms around the ones Harry had around him.  “Seems like just yesterday we were headed to the hospital with this one,” he said wistfully.  Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out something about how it wouldn’t be long before they would be doing that again.  Louis didn’t seem to notice as his eyes again narrowed on the blond Casanova that now had one arm linked with his baby girl.  “She really is going to break some hearts, that one.  Mostly ours, I reckon.”

The rest of the party progressed with expected chaos.  Kids were hyped up on sugar, parents were tipsy with wine, and there were sure to be traces of glitter permanently embedded into every outdoor crevice, but finally the last guests had gone and the bags of rubbish were taken to the curb and on any other day the two parents would have been too exhausted to do much besides put Rose to sleep and crawl into bed themselves.

But today was not any other day.

As was their custom, Louis had taken to putting away toys and cleaning the rooms downstairs while Harry negotiated with their stubborn daughter about taking a bath.  The roles of good cop/bad cop had developed as quickly as Rose’s diva toddler attitude.  He didn’t do it consciously, but Louis was still so afraid of being too severe, of permanently damaging her psyche, that he tended to give into her every demand.  It was innocuous enough when she was little, but now that she was getting into problems that involved others – e.g., hitting or lying or downright obstinacy – he was slowly learning how to correct her as well.  He was learning, but in all likelihood he would always be the soft one.

Ironically, this made Harry – sweet, gentle, calm, empathetic Harry – the bad cop most of the time.  This particular night was exacerbated by too much overstimulation and excitement during the day and too much anticipation of the evening’s activities.  Both father and daughter were a bit more biting than usual, and if Louis was being honest, it made him feel the slightest bit better about his own parenting capabilities hearing Harry try to talk her into taking a bath, or brushing her teeth, or putting on pajamas.

One way or another, every night the house somehow got clean and their little girl made it to bed.  On this particular night, Harry made sure to be finished first so that he could make everything just so before Louis joined him.

Harry dimmed all the upstairs lights and placed candles around their room and down the hall.  He created a trail of yellow roses that started at the bottom of the stairs and ran all the way to their shared bed, where Harry situated himself in the center.  Louis had forced him to start at least wearing boxers to bed once Rose had started walking, but tonight he chose to return to his favored state of undress.

“Not long now,” he whispered, curling his chin forward and staring down at his still flat stomach.  He gave it a gentle pat before laying the anniversary gift he’d wrapped earlier across his hips and waiting for his husband to come up and celebrate.  They had so very much to celebrate.

Louis ascended the stairs slowly, picking up flower after flower and blowing out the candles as he went by them.  It was a sweet gesture, but he had a feeling they would soon be… otherwise occupied, and didn’t particularly want to have to worry about accidentally burning the house down.  When he reached the threshold of the bedroom, the picture that awaited him caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

Harry’s naked body was a sight that he would never get used to.  It was hard muscle and soft skin – sculpted marble draped in silk – and even after so many years together it never failed to steal the breath from his lungs.

Louis released his hold on the flowers and tiptoed to the foot of the bed.  The soft light of the moon and the candles gave him an almost ethereal glow, and his smile was downright otherworldly as Louis climbed onto the mattress and situated himself between Harry’s bent knees.

Louis continued to stare in a daze, and normally Harry would find this quite flattering, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could contain his news.  “Aren’t you going to open your present?” he finally asked, his eyes flicking to the cleverly positioned gift.

Louis frowned down at the small box censoring his otherwise perfect view.  “Can’t possibly be better than what’s behind it.”  He made a move to toss the present aside for later, but Harry’s hands latched onto his wrists, holding them in place.  “It’ll still be there in a few hours,” Louis whined, again trying to gain access to Harry’s glorious cock.

Harry suppressed a chuckle and sat fully up.  “I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

At this, Louis quirked an eyebrow.  They didn’t usually exchange gifts – tangible ones, anyway – for this occasion, and his first thought was that the box contained some sort of bedroom toy or accessory.  After all, they had spent the last couple years actively trying to conceive; although they were both more than up for the task, occasionally they were compelled to get, well, a little more creative.  This thought was quickly banished, though, when he removed the lid to reveal a neatly placed square of fabric, which he unfolded and—

“Is this a joke?”

“What?”  The words were almost angry, and Harry was genuinely confused.

“This is a kid’s shirt, Haz.”  Yes, Harry knew that.  “I know you like to tease me, but fuck!  Now?  You think _now_ – on our _anniversary_ – is a good time to mock your husband’s small stature?”

It was then that Harry realized that Louis hadn’t actually bothered to read what the shirt said.  “What?” he asked again, shaking the last bits of confusion out of his head.  “No.  God, no.  Lou, it’s for Rose; the shirt’s for Rosie.”

Louis had always been particularly defensive about his size, which of course his friends then loved to tease him about, and still wasn’t quite sure whether he should be offended.  “If it’s a gift for Rosie, why didn’t you just give it to her this afternoon?”

Harry looked up to the ceiling and growled in exasperation.  “Just read the damn shirt, will you?”

Louis’ petulance almost caused him to completely disregard Harry’s request, but… well, Harry was still naked and the desires of his baser self overrode the misplaced stubbornness.  His eyes raked over the words once, twice; they flicked wildly back and forth between the glittery text and Harry’s now widely grinning face.

“’Big sister’?” Louis asked around the knot forming in his throat.  Harry nodded.  “You’re—are you—?”  Harry leaned over and snatched the positive pregnancy test from the drawer of his nightstand and held it out proudly for Louis to examine.  “You’re pregnant.”  It was a statement, but Harry nodded anyway.  “You’re pregnant!” Louis shouted, launching himself at Harry and pinning him to the bed.

“I’m pregnant!” he managed to confirm in the few seconds that Louis’ lips were not attached to his.

Louis left a trail of kisses down Harry’s neck and across his chest; he scooted himself down on the bed and rested his palm in the space beneath Harry’s bellybutton.  “We’re gonna have a baby,” he whispered in awe, laying his head down next to his hand as Harry’s fingers carded through his hair.

“I love you,” Harry said, placing his hand on top of Louis’, on top of their growing child.  “Happy anniversary.”


	2. The Confirmation

They spent the night savoring each other, taking their time tasting and teasing the other’s body, knowing every inch as well as their own.  So greatly had they enjoyed themselves that they were still asleep when their excited four-year-old bounded in and pounced on their unsuspecting forms.

“Daddy, it’s Sunday!” she exclaimed, as if this were explanation enough.  They always had a big family breakfast on Sundays, and Harry’s breakfasts were legendary.  It was no wonder she was excited.

Rose was straddling Harry’s torso and staring down at him expectantly, but Louis gently pulled her off and sat her in his lap.  “Easy, love,” he cautioned.  “We need to be extra careful with daddy for a while.”

Harry wanted to roll his eyes – he wasn’t any more fragile than he had been two days earlier when there was an obstacle course set up in the living room and Rose had basically used him as her human landing pad.  Still, he thought it rather adorable how protective Louis was already being over his condition.

Rose scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion and concern.  “Is daddy sick?”

“No, I’m not sick.  Papa’s just being overly careful.”  He pinned Louis with a look that dared him to offer a contradiction, then leaned in as if about to tell her a secret.  “You know how he worries.”

Rose let out a long-suffering sigh and nodded.  “Yesterday uncle Niall tried to teach me a new game but then papa came and started yelling and took away his cake.”

Louis prickled at the memory and responded through gritted teeth.  “Considering uncle Niall didn’t learn to play that game until he was at _university_ , I thought you might be a little young for it.”

Her bottom lip stuck out in a put.  “I’m four now, papa.  I’m big.”

Harry grinned – he knew where she’d picked up that phrase.  “Too big… for smiley face pancakes then, I suppose,” he taunted.

“No I’m not!” she cried, aghast.  “You and papa still eat them, and you’re a _lot_ older than me.”

“Oi!” Louis called, grabbing for his mouthy daughter.  “Not too old to catch you!”

Harry snatched her off the bed and out of Louis’ reach with a laugh, throwing her over his shoulder and racing out into the hall.

Once Louis caught up with them – damn Harry and his freakishly long giraffe limbs – Harry was already busily pulling pans and ingredients out of the cabinets while Rose sat on the countertop, legs swinging happily over the edge.  “What can I do to help?” he asked, fully expecting to be relegated to stirring or chopping duty.

The question was directed to Harry, but their daughter was the one who answered.  “No, papa.  Me and daddy make breakfast.  You stay and wait on the couch.  Where it’s safe.”

Louis didn’t know whether to be offended or impressed that she already had such awareness of his lack of skill in the kitchen.  His skills had improved, certainly, but they did know some members of the fire department well enough to receive Christmas cards from them.

Harry smirked and gave a shrug.  “She’s not wrong.”

It was several days before they could get an appointment with the midwife, and Harry was a bundle of unreleased energy and enthusiasm.  It was driving Louis mad, but at least Rose was taking advantage of his manic state.  The endless games of chase, the dance parties in the living room, and the daddy-daughter yoga sessions had worn her out so much that she didn’t even protest when they put her down for her nap.

Although Harry was anxious to shout it from the rooftops, he agreed to at least get the pregnancy confirmed before letting their friends and family in on the news.  So when Niall came over to keep an eye on things, they made up an excuse about doing some early Christmas shopping while they actually went to their appointment.  Niall was right to be suspicious, as the Tomlinson-Styles were known for their mastery in the art of procrastination.

Niall very much doubted that they were doing any shopping before the absolute last minute, and were therefore hiding something.  But he could be bribed to keep his mouth shut.  “I could use a new X-box,” he suggested as Harry and Louis were putting on their coats.  “Not that we’re keeping totals or anything, but with all the free babysitting and everything I do around here...”

Louis narrowed his eyes.  “I’m pretty sure you’ve consumed more than an entire electronics store’s worth of food from my pantry, lad.  So really, if we look at the record that we’re totally not keeping –“

“Alright, you two best be going now.”  Niall shooed them out the door before Louis could bring up any of the rugs or dishware he’d managed to destroy over the years, or the one time he’d mistakenly wanted a motorcycle and ended up opening a new entrance into their fenced yard.  To this day, the spot didn’t quite blend in with the rest of the posts.

Louis chose to drive, as Harry was currently a fidgety ball of nerves, and as soon as he pulled into a parking spot Harry was practically dragging him through the lot, into the waiting room, then down the hall when their names were called.

Harry sat patiently, if restlessly, as the nurse asked her questions and wrote down her notes and performed her tests and absconded with her samples.  It wasn’t until she was out of the room, leaving the two of them alone, that Harry finally stilled.  He had been so restless that this new stoic form had Louis worried.  After a few minutes, he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“What is it, Haz?”  Harry still didn’t look up, and Louis reached down to mold his hand around Harry’s.  “Are you not feeling well?”

Harry gave a small smile.  He wished that were the problem – it would give some indication that his body was changing to accommodate the life he desperately hoped was growing inside him.  “I’m okay.”  Louis knew Harry quite well, and rather than pushing him to talk, which would only stress him out more, he simply locked himself into Harry’s side and waited for him to continue when he was ready.  “It’s just… what if it’s wrong?  What if I’m not… what if the test was wrong, Lou?”

“Hey, hey, there’s no reason to think that.  False positives are very rare, you know that.”

“But we’ve been trying for so long, and I haven’t—what if I can’t?”  Harry wanted to cry at the thought, but Louis rested his head on his shoulder and drew soothing lines up and down his arm.

“Shh, these are happy times, love.”  He reached down and placed his hand over Harry’s tummy.  “And stress isn’t good for the baby.”  Harry smiled at Louis’ certainty, clinging onto it even when he felt none of it for himself.  “I can’t wait to see you try to squeeze your pregnant ass into those ungodly tight skinny jeans,” he said suddenly, causing Harry to burst into a fit of giggles, releasing the tension just as Dr. Reid came bustling into the room wearing a huge grin on her face.  She didn’t usually have regular patients, mostly just worked in and out of the hospital, but she had a soft spot for the pair and made an exception.

“Congratulations, Harry – looks like you’re officially pregnant!  Only about four weeks, I’d say, but there’s definitely a bun in your oven.”  Harry leapt out of his chair, pulling Louis up with him and then squeezing him into a chokehold.  His enthusiasm was short-lived, though, as the doctor continued.  “Your hormone levels are a little low, but not out of the normal range for this early in the pregnancy.”

Harry jerked out of Louis’ grasp and immediately put on his serious face.  “What does that mean?  Is that bad?  Can we fix it?  Should I be doing something differently?”

Louis would have piped in with some sort of reassurances, but he had sort of skipped this whole part of his own pregnancy and had no idea whether or not to be concerned about it. 

Dr. Reid’s easy smile was comforting.  “Just keep up with those prenatal vitamins and drink lots of water and your body should take care of the rest.”

Harry nodded gravely.  “Of course.”  Like something out of a cartoon, his eyes got impossibly wide and he was practically bouncing in place as a thought occurred to him.  “Are you going to do a scan?  Will we get to see our baby?”

“Sorry, lads, but there’s not much to see at this point – just a tiny dot on the screen.”  Harry looked like a kicked puppy and Louis put a hand to the small of his back.  “But when you come back in about a month, there should be some arms and legs and a giant head and even a heartbeat.”

Harry’s eyes got wide again, but this time in wonder.  “All of that happens in a month?”

Dr. Reid shifted back on her heels and nodded.  “Incredible, innit?”

Louis reached up on his tiptoes to peck Harry’s lips, which were still parted in surprise.  “You’re incredible.”

Those lips turned up in a smile and he snaked an arm around Louis’ waist, pulling him tighter.  “We’re incredible.”

The doctor gave a not-so-subtle clear of her throat and the pair pulled away from each other wearing matching sheepish grins, like teenagers who had been caught making out in their car by their parents at the end of a date.  “So, whenever you two are ready, you can head up to the front desk to schedule your next appointment.”

“Where I’ll be getting an ultrasound?” Harry confirmed.

“Where you will get your ultrasound.  I wouldn’t suggest coming in any earlier than the first week of December,” she warned, knowing Harry would be eager to get in as soon as possible.  As predicted, his face took on the expression of a toddler about to throw a tantrum.

“Thank you, Dr. Reid,” Louis said by way of goodbye, dragging Harry away before he could make a scene.

“But that’s so _long_ ,” Harry whined as Louis spoke with the receptionist.  “It won’t be as much fun telling people if we don’t have a picture to go with the announcement.”

Louis was only half listening as he checked his calendar, and had to replay those words once or twice before they registered.  “You’re planning on telling people already?  I thought you were supposed to wait—“  He had the good sense to stop himself from saying ‘in case something goes wrong’.

“You weren’t?  I’m _excited_ , Lou – we’re having a _baby_.” 

Louis shrugged.  He was halfway through his pregnancy before anyone knew about it – who was he to judge?  “Whatever you want, love.”

Harry was quiet for most of the drive home, but finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling around his head.  “I want to tell people.”

“Mhmm.”  Louis was not surprised.

Harry huffed in exasperation.  “I want to tell people, but I also want it to be special.”

“Okay.”  He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but he was sure Harry was about to tell him.

“I’d like to wait until we have a picture of her.”

“Her?”  Louis cocked an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes like it was obvious.

“Yes, Louis.  I told you I had a dream about this, and we are destined to have another little girl.  I just know it.” 

Louis suppressed a long-suffering sigh.  Yes, he remembered Harry’s ‘premonition’ – it was the night after Rose’s second birthday, and the catalyst for him wanting to start trying for another baby.  And people thought Louis was the gypsy in the family.  “Okay, so you want to wait until December.”

Harry bit his lip.  “Would it be too cheesy to do it on Christmas?  I mean, the whole family is going to be together anyway…”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Louis said, grabbing his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.  “Can we tell ‘em after dinner though, so your mum isn’t cryin into the potatoes?”  The image had them both in fits of laughter as they pulled up into their driveway, their little girl waiting for them with her nose pressed to the glass at the front door.

They spent the next several weeks trying to pretend everything was normal.  There was nothing either of them could do but wait, so Harry went on carrying out his online bakery orders and Louis submitted the last few articles that would allow him to take a break until after the holidays.  Only their daughter, observant as she was, noticed that something was off when Harry didn’t engage with her as roughly as he usually did.  But then Louis would let her have ice cream for dinner and the incident was all but forgotten.

Although Harry had banned himself from telling anyone their news, he couldn’t stop himself from making other preparations.  He spent several days clearing out the old junk that had been building up in the spare room.  Once that was done – and because Harry _insisted_ that it had to be done now because he’d be too big and tired to do it later – he even painted the room a nice neutral yellow.  Louis knew he wasn’t _that_ sure that it was a girl.

They would have to retrieve all the furniture and clothes they kept from Rose’s younger days from their various storage spaces, and Louis had to roll his eyes at how early it was to be doing all of this.  But, it kept Harry happy and busy, so Louis only occasionally mocked him for it .  Plus, it would make Christmas shopping for him the easiest thing in the world.  If Harry could stop himself from buying all the baby items they passed for the next few weeks – a seemingly impossible task, looking at the already half-filled room.

It was the last week of November and Harry was perched on their granite countertop, watching with amusement as Louis scrambled around the kitchen retrieving almost every pot and pan they had.  “You know most people in England don’t traditionally celebrate the settlers breaking bread with the American Indians,” he teased.  He understood Louis’ attachment to the holiday – one of the few pleasant foster families he’d stayed with as a child was American, and it was on that occasion that he first truly felt thankful for anything.  He just found it endlessly amusing that it happened to be a holiday centered around one of the few skills that Louis was truly dreadful at – cooking.

Louis calmed his whirlwind long enough to fix him with a glare.  “And if Thanksgiving were really about the early American interactions with indigenous people, it would _not_ be a celebration.  Now, are you just going sit there and mock me, or are you going to help?”

Harry chuckled, but hopped off the counter just as Rose gleefully ran into the kitchen to add to the chaos.  They both stopped dead in their tracks when they saw what she was wearing.

“Where did you find that, love?” Harry asked, knowing full well she must have rummaged through the boxes in their closet, perhaps snooping for Christmas presents, to find the anniversary present he’d given Louis.  She shrugged innocently.  “Baby, you can’t wear that tonight.”

She pouted and looked to her papa for support, but he had his arms crossed and his eyes held a challenge.  “But it’s pretty and sparkly and I want to show it to uncle Niall and uncle Liam.”

They really had no good excuse for her not to wear the shirt other than ‘because I said so’, and therefore had to get creative.  “Oh, but don’t you know that’s a Christmas shirt?” Harry asked her.

_Clever_.  She couldn’t yet read the cursive letters, and therefore didn’t know what it said.  It was even technically true, as they planned to announce her big sisterhood to the family at Christmas.  “Daddy’s right.  This is a very special shirt that should be saved for a special occasion.  Can you be a good little flower and be patient for just a little bit longer?”

Rose considered their proposal for a few moments and asked, “Promise?”  She held out her pinky finger, taking the time to seal the vow with both her daddy and her papa, then with a put-upon sigh spun on her heels and marched up to her room to change.

Niall and Liam usually joined them for the festivities – Liam because he was also aware of its significance to his best friend, and Niall because… well, because there was food involved – and would be arriving shortly.  Dinner wouldn’t be ready for hours, and half the time it was so severely mutilated that they ended up ordering takeout anyway, but as Louis said—it wasn’t about that.

As soon as they stepped through the door, Rose bounded down the stairs and Niall swooped her up and tossed her squealing and giggling over his shoulder.  “No!  NO!”  She kicked her little legs in the air and wriggled in his grasp.  “Uncle Niall, that’s not how you treat a lady.”

Niall looked offended, but Harry crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen.  He tore off a piece of the toast he held in his hand and shrugged.  “She’s got a point.”

Niall set her down, giving Harry a traitorous look.  “Alright, then.  How do you treat a lady?”

Rose smoothed down her shirt and stood up to her full miniscule height.  “You ask her to tea and then you sip it with your pinky up like that,” she raised her little finger into the air, “and then you say, ‘Mmm, delightful,’ even if it’s rubbish because daddy said it’s rude to say that even if it is because papa worked very hard on it and—“

Harry nearly choked on the piece of bread in his mouth and Niall fell over with laughter, his booming laugh thankfully overpowering the unintended insult, but Harry was quick to usher them upstairs before Rose could get him into anymore trouble.

It’s when they’re roasting the turkey that they made their first mistake.  Louis was busily chopping up veggies for the salad so Harry snagged the baster and bent down to open the oven door.  When he did, he was accosted with a warm, wet blast of air.  He scrambled backward, but the scent of meat and spices lingered in the heavy mist and almost made him gag.  Louis was quick to slam the door shut and knelt down to Harry’s level.

“What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”

Harry took in a few lungfuls of clean air and the wave of sickness passed as quickly as it had come.  Weird.  “Just a bit nauseous.”

“Nauseous?  You’re feeling nauseous?” 

Harry looked up in confusion at the excitement in Louis’ voice and found his eyes sparkling.  This was the first real, tangible sign that Harry was actually pregnant.  “I was,” he said with a laugh, falling into Louis’ arms while Liam looked down at the two like they’d lost their damn minds.

It’s during the toast at dinner that they made their second mistake.  Harry had always been mocked for his elitist taste in red wine, and its absence in his goblet as they clinked their glasses together did not go unnoticed.

“What, no vintage Cab for Mr. Styles tonight?” Liam asked in mock surprise.

“It’s Tomlinson-Styles,” Louis said; then, covering Rose’s ears momentarily, whispered, “you twat.”

Rose looked up and tugged on Niall’s shirtsleeve, cupping a hand around her mouth to stifle her words.  “What’s a twat?”

Niall tried to suppress his laughter, desperately wanting to encourage her adorably ignorant use of the word but knowing that his time with her would be heavily regulated if he did.  “Ask daddy about it later.”  He wouldn’t get to see Harry’s undoubtedly hilarious reaction to the question, but took satisfaction in just knowing that it would come up.

It’s after Rose went to bed and the grown-ups took turns saying what they were thankful for that they made their third mistake.  They both knew what they wanted to say, what they were most thankful for, but since they had agreed not to tell anyone just yet they had to come up with something else.  So they let Niall and Liam go first.

“Well, I know this is kind of cheatin’, but Liam and I both have the same answer this year.”  Niall reached out his hand and Liam came over and interlaced their fingers.  “We’ve got a bit of news.” 

Harry looked over at Louis and whispered, “Them too?”  Liam’s eyes flicked in their direction, but the two were busy trying to uncover whether their news was what they thought it was.

Louis took in their obviously smitten faces, the way they maintained as much physical contact as possible even sitting side by side.  Surely they weren’t… they couldn’t be.  No, what were the odds?  He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out.

Niall saw Harry put a hand to his stomach and put together the fact that they had made an incorrect assumption.  Well, no harm in having a bit of fun with them first.  “We’re—“  Niall mirrored Harry’s gesture, placing a hand on his midsection, and watched with delight as Harry and Louis’ expressions turned flabbergasted.

When Liam looked over at what Niall was doing, he swatted him on the arm.  “Oh for fuck’s sake, Niall.”  He turned his exasperated gaze on the other couple.  “We’re engaged.”  Then, turning back to Niall, “ _Only_ engaged.  Nothing else.”

Niall threw back his head in pure ecstasy.  “Oh but you should have seen your faces!” he cackled, falling over onto his side and gasping for air.

Those faces were still frozen in disbelief, and it was then that the pieces fell into place.  “Is there something you’d like to share that you’re both jointly thankful for?” Liam asked, looking pointedly between the two of them.

“Oi, we can’t be done talking about me yet.  I am engaged.  Betrothed.  Spoken for.  The only way my news is getting trumped is if one of us was actually pregnant.”  It took a few moments longer than Liam, but the light bulb eventually went off in Niall’s brain too and he nearly jumped off the couch.  “Holy shit, you’re pregnant!”

Harry looked to Louis and bit his lip.  On the one hand, he had finally made peace with waiting until Christmas to tell their friends and family.  On the other hand, he was fucking ecstatic and he wanted to tell them more than anything.  Louis shrugged – it was Harry’s body and he could tell people about it whenever he wanted.

It was all the permission he needed.

“I’m pregnant!” he cried, throwing open his arms and quickly being enveloped by a tangle of arms and legs and scratchy wool sweaters.  Eventually they all settled down into a contented group cuddle.  The couch wasn’t exactly intended to hold four full-grown men, but they made it work.  “So if it’s not too much trouble,” Harry said, finally breaking the silence, “I’d appreciate it if you set the date far from the July/August timeframe.”

Liam did some quick calculations and was surprised – that meant Harry was only a few weeks along – but Niall interjected before he could say anything.  “But it’s tradition now.  I mean, would it even be a wedding if someone wasn’t going into labor?  Honestly, that’s still the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Louis cringed at the memory.  “I’m not sure ‘fun’ is the word I’d use.”

“And besides, if you’re going to want me to make your cake, I am not going to do it at nine fucking months pregnant.”  Harry remembered how much trouble Louis had even getting out of bed those last few weeks; there was no way he would even be able to physically lift the heavy tiers at that point.

“Ooh, someone’s mood swings have already started,” Niall said, drawing back in mock offense.

“Maybe they have,” Harry said fondly, curling deeper into Louis’ side and immediately starting to doze.

“And asleep before your guests even leave?  Pregnancy is already kicking your ass,” Liam added.  Harry didn’t open his eyes, but waved his middle finger prominently in Liam’s general direction.

Louis came to his husband’s defense.  “Hey, it’s hard work growing an entire human being – not that either of you two knobheads would know.”

“Can’t be that hard, considering you didn’t even know you were doing it for a third of a year,” Niall countered, cackling.  Louis lunged at him, and somehow they both ended up on the floor, one in a headlock and the other pinned from the waist down.

Harry finally pried his eyes open enough to exchange an exasperated look with Liam, then they each reached down and gave a firm tug to their respective partners to pull them away from each other and back toward the couch.  After a few more petulant slaps and childish flicks, the four settled comfortably back into their previous positions as if nothing had happened.

As Harry once again wrapped himself around Louis’ body like a koala, Louis kissed the top of his head; Niall and Liam were engaging in similar disgustingly cutesy couple behavior.  “Best Thanksgiving ever.”


	3. The Loss

It was another week later, after the adrenaline high of announcing his pregnancy to someone had worn off, that Harry began to get antsy again.  It was still almost a week before their scheduled ultrasound and he had been moping around the house all morning.  He had made plans months ago to go out and celebrate Gemma’s birthday with her in the city and wasn’t sure he could get away with avoiding consuming drinks all night.

“I don’t know, Lou, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”  Harry examined himself in their full length mirror.  He didn’t _look_ any different, even through the sheer black button-down he was wearing, but he thought for sure that his sister would somehow be able to tell what he was hiding beneath it.  He almost wanted her to figure it out on her own – then he wouldn’t technically be breaking his own self-imposed rules – but she might be pissed off if she knew he knew and didn’t say anything.  “What if she suspects something?”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Louis said, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist.  “I’ve always loved this shirt,” he mused, using the mirror to find the outline of Harry’s butterfly tattoo and trace it with his fingertips.  “I’m sure we could find other things to do tonight.”  He bit down lightly into the flesh of Harry’s shoulder and he groaned.

“That’s what led to this little predicament in the first place.”

Louis’ hands traveled up and gently teased what he knew from experience were very sensitive nipples.  “And in order to do so, you have not allowed me to ride you in a very long time.”  He left a trail of kisses along Harry’s shoulder and moved a hand to thread his fingers through the curls at the base of his neck.  “Maybe it’s time I dusted off my saddle.”

Harry made sounds of protest, but instinctively leaned back and rubbed his bum up against Louis’ groin.  “R-Rose.  She’s—“

“Currently learning veterinary medicine under the tutelage of the very capable Doc McStuffins.  I reckon we’ve got at least a solid 20 minutes.”

It was mere seconds later that Louis had Harry on his back in the center of the bed, hiking his shirt up and dragging his tongue across the dips in the still well-defined planes of his abdomen.  With desperate hands, he snapped open the button of Harry’s jeans and they both struggled to pull the tight fabric down his legs.

“Shh,” Louis warned around a giggle when Harry accidentally kicked the corner post of the bed, managing to shimmy down his boxers just far enough to expose his rapidly growing erection.  “This is all I need anyway.”  Louis had just begun to undo his own trousers when they heard the front door slam shut.

“Who’s ready to spend an evening consuming overpriced shots and dancing horrifically with the best big sister in the world?” Gemma called from downstairs.

Harry let out a resigned whine and was about to call back when Louis pressed a finger to his lips.  “Be down in a minute!”  He looked down at Harry’s tortured expression and zipped his own pants back up.  “No time for the full album, but I can still play you the single.”

Harry was about to ask what the hell Louis was talking about when his head disappeared between Harry’s legs and any coherent thoughts were replaced with pure, incoherent pleasure.

Louis descended the stairs first, mouth a little redder and eyes a little glassier than usual, but it was Harry that really gave them away.  He clomped down the stairs with a still half-dazed grin on his face and his hair looked like… well, like they’d been doing exactly what they had been doing.

Gemma cocked an eyebrow as he stumbled over to the coat rack.  “Well, I hope my night ends as well as yours began, little bro.”

This snapped Harry out of his post-orgasm trance.  “Hey, it better not.  I’d prefer not to have to beat the crap out of someone tonight.”

“Hitting is wrong, daddy,” Rose chimed in from the couch.

Gemma put on a satisfied smirk.  “That’s right, Rosie.  And besides, women are allowed to make their own choices without the permission of their male companions.”

“Yas, queen!” Rose squealed in her sassiest voice.

Louis sat on the couch and pulled his daughter in close to his side.  “And just where did you learn that, love?” he asked, though he could deduce the answer.

“Auntie Gemma.  She told me that girls can do anything boys can do and anyone who says different is just trying to take our power and—“

“Alright, alright my little feminist.  Let’s just focus on getting your letters and numbers down before we go talking about dismantling the oppressive patriarchy, yeah?”  He shifted his position enough to give Gemma a _what-the-fuck_ look and flip her the bird behind Rose’s back before turning his attention back to his daughter.  “Now, say goodbye to daddy and Auntie Gemma.  You won’t see them again before you go to bed.”

Rose leapt off the couch and bounded over to throw her arms around Gemma’s knees.  “Bye!  Take care of daddy – papa said we need to be very gentle with him right now.”  She threw a confused look at Louis as he sauntered up to them, luckily missing the slightly panicked expression that flashed across Harry’s face.

Louis bent down to whisper in her ear.  “And what else do you have to say to Aunt Gemma?” he prompted, careful to divert attention away from the unusual turn of phrase.

Rose scrunched up her shoulders and swayed shyly.  “And happy birthday.”

“Oh thank you, my little love bug,” she said, swooping down to receive a full arms-around-the-neck hug from the four-year-old.  “I promise to take extra special care of daddy.”

Rose nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and turned her attention to Harry.  “Bye, daddy.”  Harry bent down and she wrapped her whole body around his torso.  “I’ll miss you.”

“Me too, sweet girl.”  He pulled away, then stage whispered, “And if you need papa to make you a snack, you know where the fire extinguisher is.”

Louis’ mouth formed an offended ‘o’ and Harry, too, was gifted with Louis’ middle finger.

“In the cabinet under the sink,” Rose replied to everyone’s surprise.

Gemma and Harry were in stitches, but still managed to dodge Louis’ attempts at retribution.  Rose was not so lucky.  Once they were gone, he quickly turned his game of chase on his smart-mouthed daughter, which somehow ended with the couch cushions strewn across the front porch and chocolate chips in his jeans pockets.  It was going to be a long night.

Harry tolerated the club scene for a few hours before finally giving in to the building urge to withdraw.  He didn’t know what it was, but something was making him feel slightly off.  Maybe it was the loud, pounding, relentless music.  Or having to constantly yet subtly pawn off every cocktail that was handed to him.  Or maybe it was Gemma’s increasingly intoxicated and handsy coworkers that kept trying to drag him into the sweaty throng of dancers.  As the night pressed on, whatever it was began to wreak havoc on his ability to have a good time.

“I think I’m gonna get some air,” he yelled in Gemma’s ear.  She nodded, but he wasn’t sure whether she’d heard him or was just bopping along to the techno beat.

He went out the side door into the alley, but was immediately enveloped in a cloud of cigarette smoke that had him coughing and gagging and clinging to the wall for support.

“Ay, no need to be dramatic, mate,” a heavily pierced skinhead said, aiming his next exhalation directly toward Harry’s hunched form.  “You don’t like it, you can piss off.”

Harry stumbled down the alleyway and spilled out onto the street, effectively getting away from both the hoodlums and their offensive stench.  His head cleared a bit with the fresh air, but it was Saturday night in the city and there were far too many people around for him to calm down.  This only served to intensify the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and he was worried he might be having a panic attack.  He didn’t remember it feeling like this, but it had been a long time since that debilitating helplessness had come upon him and maybe he had just forgotten.

He texted Gemma to tell her that he was headed across the street to the 24-hour diner to get some food.  He wasn’t really hungry, but maybe some plain toast and quiet would help relieve whatever distress was assaulting his body.

Harry was quickly seated in a booth in the mostly empty restaurant and was just about to take the first sip of his cup of piping hot tea when Gemma and her very loud entourage came barreling in through the door.  “You’re a genius!” she exclaimed, sliding in and squishing him up next to the wall so that two others could fill in the space beside her.  Instead of spreading out to some of the many wide open tables, four more of them squeezed into the opposite side of the booth and two took up chairs at the end of the table.

“You’re lucky I’ve got narrow hips,” he muttered with a scowl, twisting his legs to a more comfortable position.  _Morning_ sickness was apparently a misnomer, and Harry took a long sip of his spiced drink to drown out the cloud of alcohol smells they had brought in with them.

“Yes, you’ve got the body of a supermodel.”  Gemma narrowed her eyes at her friends across the table that appeared to be admiring his physique for entirely separate reasons.  “It’s quite annoying, actually.” 

Harry smiled into his tea; she wouldn’t be saying that for much longer.

They all ordered food, and Harry had forgotten how much of an appetite drunk girls had, having himself been peer pressured into ordering way more than he intended on eating.  He took a few bites of potatoes and what he figured was supposed to be bacon just to appease his sister, who had begun to mother him.

Partly to get away from her, and partly because the mystery meat did not seem to be sitting well in his intestinal tract, Harry excused himself and escaped into the men’s room.  None of the girls would follow him there – probably – and finally he found some peace.

It was fairly clean, as far as local dive bathrooms went, and Harry took his time using the facilities and splashing some cold water on his face, digging deep to try and find the strength to finish out this night.  He was exhausted and achy and nauseous, and suddenly slightly jealous that Louis had had such an easy time with the first half of his pregnancy.

He went back out to the main room, only to discover that the empty space that had been his seat was absorbed by the sea of Gemma’s fem-squad.  Just as well.

Harry pulled up a chair and situated himself on the outskirts of the group, making eye contact with whoever was speaking and nodding appropriately, but not engaging as his usual outgoing and charismatic self.  He was glad of his current position on the perimeter when a dull cramping sensation twisted in his gut.  Because of course, a case of food poisoning was just what this night needed. 

He waited as long as he could, squirming in his chair to try and relieve the discomfort.  When the annoying ache escalated to crippling proportions, he stumbled up and over to the sanctuary of the restrooms, racing to one of the toilet stalls.  He waited for his body to tell him which end he should aim toward the bowl, but nothing was forthcoming.

Harry slid to the floor as the cramping got worse and sent up a silent prayer that he would just throw up already and be done with this agony.  He did, eventually, empty the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet, but it offered no relief.  Keeping his eyes opened made him dizzy, and staying upright made the pain worse.  By instinct, he laid on his side while his body curled in on itself as he panted heavily and tried to force his mind to have mastery over his currently obstinate matter.

He should move.  He should get help.  He should yell until someone came in to see what all the ruckus was about.

There were a thousand things he should have been doing, but agony fogs the brain and paralyzes the body.  In an incredible display of willpower, he eventually managed to drag himself halfway out of the stall.  He peeked his eyes open to see what kind of progress he’d made toward the door, but when his gaze fell upon the bright wet trail that was left behind in his wake, all the fight went out of him and he crumpled back to the floor, the pain in his heart far surpassing the one in his stomach.

He was bleeding.

After having tempered their inebriation with water and greasy diner food, Gemma’s crew was ready to get back to the club and start the whole process over again.  It wasn’t until they were preparing to leave that she realized she hadn’t seen her brother in a while.  She knew he wasn’t as into the party scene anymore, but doubted that he would just abandon them without a word.

“Go on ahead, I’ll meet up with you later,” she said, waving off the group of girls.  Half of them were already out the door before her blessing, and she rolled her eyes at how flaky they could be.  She took a lap around the diner, peering into the empty booths to see if perhaps he had shut himself away in a corner somewhere.  When her search came up empty, she went to the back and took a tentative peek into the men’s restroom.

“H?  You in here?”  She kept her eyes toward the ceiling at first, not particularly wanting to get an unsolicited eyeful of a stranger, but a small movement at the base of one of the stalls caught her eye.  “Harry?”  She approached with caution, not quite sure what she’d just walked in on.

“Gemma,” he whimpered, his hand reaching out blindly.

“What the hell,” she said, dropping to her knees and pulling Harry’s face up to get a closer look at him.  There were tear tracks down his cheeks and his eyebrows were drawn together in pain.  His knees were hugged to his chest and his breaths were coming in labored gasps.  “Fuck, what’s wrong?”

Harry either didn’t hear her question or didn’t know the answer, and simply continued shaking and writhing on the ground muttering a mantra of ‘no, no, no’.   He’d heard someone come in, even recognized the familiar voice and comforting touch, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the stabbing pain in his stomach.  Rationally, he understood what was likely happening, but he refused to accept it.

No, he had worked too long and fought too hard for this baby.  He couldn’t lose it now, he just couldn’t.

“Can’t lose what?” Gemma asked as she gently stroked his hair while waiting for the paramedics she’d called to arrive.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been muttering those words out loud, but there was no point denying it now.  She would have found out soon enough anyway.  “Baby.  Can’t lose the baby.  Can’t—“  His words were cut off with a choked sob and Gemma shushed him until he was able to breathe again.

Everything was a blur as Harry was loaded onto gurney and the EMTs took his vitals and wheeled him into the ambulance.  Before anyone could protest, Gemma hopped into the back and took his hand.  Harry clutched onto it for dear life as he was inundated with more tests and more interrogations.

What were his symptoms?  When did they start?  How far along was he?  Who was his primary doctor?  Was there someone he needed to call?

He tried answering, but he was so overwhelmed, physically and emotionally, and now he felt short of breath and his heart rate spiked and he just started sobbing uncontrollably and this, this was a set of symptoms Gemma recognized.

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” she interrupted their endless stream of questions, then turned back to her brother.  “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.  Just breathe.  They’re gonna patch you up, and then you and my little niece or nephew you’ve got cookin’ in there will be just fine.”

This just brought about another round of hysterics, and whatever was wrong with him was sure to be exacerbated by the stress, so they decided it would be best to sedate him for a while.

Everything had been so chaotic and disorienting up to this point that the sudden quiet stillness was unnerving.  Gemma held his hand for as long as they would let her, until they carted him off beyond the emergency room doors to be examined by the on-call doctor.

She stood helplessly in the waiting room for a while before her brain finally caught up with the current situation.  Harry was pregnant and there could be something wrong with him or the baby.  She didn’t know who knew about the pregnancy or what complications there might be, but she did know one thing.

She needed to get Louis’ ass down there right away.

It was well past 2 a.m. when Louis heard the faint buzz of his phone rattle against the wooden nightstand.  He let it go to voicemail once, twice; when it sounded the third time, he decided that he would not get any peace until he answered.

“What?” he rasped grouchily into the phone.

“Louis?  It’s- it’s Gemma.”

Something about her voice sounded off, strained, and alarm bells immediately started going off in his head.  “Gemma, what’s wrong?”  He looked over at Harry’s still-made side of the bed and his anxiety skyrocketed.  “What’s happened?” he prompted when the silence stretched on.  He heard her throat clear and could have sworn he detected a wetness to the sound.  Had she been crying?

“I’m at the hospital.  It’s Harry.  He’s—I’m so sorry, Lou.  Please, you’ve got to get here right away.”  Louis was frozen in disbelief for a moment, unable to move or think or speak.  “I think- they think he’s having a miscarriage.”

Every blow Louis had ever received in his life – every fist or insult or stroke of the worst fucking luck – none of it had ever caught him so off guard or hurt him so deeply as this one.  He was in shock.  Numb on the surface with a tidal wave of grief roiling beneath, waiting for that layer to crack so it could burst forth and consume every inch of him.

In his younger days, he would have let it.  Louis would have welcomed the darkness and pain like an old friend, letting himself get swept away for weeks, months, and relishing the feeling of not having to care about anything or anyone else.

But he couldn’t do that anymore.  He had people he loved.  People he cared about and people that depended on him.  And right now he had a husband that needed him to be strong for both of them.  To hope for the best for as long as possible.  Or to be a source of comfort if and when that hope was stolen from them.

“Text me where to go.  I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  He hung up then, not trusting himself to be able to say anymore words without breaking down.

He sent a message to both Liam and Niall, asking one of them to come over and watch over Rose for the night and probably tomorrow.  Niall slept like the dead, so he wasn’t surprised when Liam answered first.

_Of course.  Is something wrong?_

Louis didn’t have the time or willpower to put into words what was happening, and so was brief and to the point.  _Yes._  

Everything was wrong.

Liam arrived in half the time it should have taken him to get to their house wearing a sweatshirt inside out and two different shoes.

“Harry’s in the hospital in the city,” Louis said by way of greeting, already halfway out the door. 

Before he could get fully past him, Liam grabbed him and pulled him tight against his chest.  “Let me know if you need anything.  Are you sure you’re alright to drive?” 

Louis was shaking, either from stress or nerves or simple terror, and no, he wasn’t sure.  But he couldn’t leave Rose and he couldn’t bring her, not without knowing what he’d be walking into, and he certainly didn’t have the patience to wait for Niall to get his dead ass up and out the door.  “I’ll be fine.”  The drive was the least of his worries.

He was about half way to the hospital when Gemma called again.  “What did they say?”  There was a pause, probably only a second or two but still far too long for Louis’ insistent need to know.  “Gemma—“

“Are you sure you want to do this over the phone?”  The way she said it made him fear the worst.  “I mean, I didn’t understand everything the doctors were saying.  I’m not sure I’d get it right.  Maybe when you get here you can talk to them yourself and—“

“Gemma, please.”  His voice was soft, pleading.  He wasn’t sure he could wait that long, and he didn’t need to know all the details right this second.  There was really just one thing he cared about.  “Are Harry and the baby okay?”

Another long pause stretched on from the other end of the phone and Louis had to grind his teeth together to keep from snapping at her.  It was an answer in itself, but Louis would not accept it until he heard the words come out of her mouth.  Finally, a swift shuddering breath echoed through the earpiece and Louis’ grip on the wheel became impossibly tighter.

“Harry’s okay – sedated for the time being, but physically he’ll be fine.”  Louis noted the slightly odd choice of phrasing; his ears picked up on it, but his brain was overcrowded with mixture of anxious thoughts and relief over his husband’s wellbeing and was therefore moving much slower than usual so her next words still took him by surprise.  “But… I’m so sorry, Lou – he lost the baby.”

If he had been able, he would have corrected her – _they_ had lost the baby – but at the moment it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the car.  Louis swerved to the side of the road, the blaring of horns and emphatic obscenities thrown his way completely drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

It wasn’t fair.  If it had been Louis – with his broken body and cynicism and negative attitude – he would have understood; it still would have hurt, but it would have made sense in a way.  He had always felt like he deserved bad things to happen to him.  But this?  Taking away from Harry – sweet, altruistic, endlessly patient and loving Harry – the one thing he wanted most in the world?  This was just cruel.

Once he got to the hospital, he knew he would have to be strong.  That Harry deserved to have a partner that would stand firm and hold him together when he fell to pieces, because this would be so much worse for him.  But for now… in this moment, Louis gave himself permission to indulge every selfish thought and emotion about this shitty situation.  He let the guilt and outrage and sorrow and longing wash over him, allowing it to enter and consume every fiber of his being.  Fire and ice warred within him – like being burned alive and yet frozen in place.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the shoulder – too long and not long enough – but he had gotten another text from Gemma saying that they were moving Harry to a different floor.  He would be waking up soon, and Louis would never forgive himself if he were alone when that happened.

So, Louis did what he did best.  He buried those emotions deep down inside himself to sort out later.  Or maybe never.  It didn’t matter.  He hadn’t had to forcibly repress things for some time, and it was like having to sit on an overstuffed suitcase in order to be able to close and lock it, but by the time he pulled into the large visitor parking lot of the hospital, his tears had dried and his hands had steadied.

His strides were quick but soft as he navigated through the maze of hallways and elevators to find the correct building and room number.  Gemma was in a small chair in the corner of the room, watching her brother from afar with something like fear in her eyes, like if she got too close he would break.  Maybe he would.

When Louis’ shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor, her head whipped in his direction.  She leapt up and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.  Surprised – and not wanting to wake Harry just yet, especially to a sight like this – he pivoted them around and into the hallway.

“I’m so sorry, Lou.  He- I didn’t know what to do.  God, why did he even go out with me tonight?  He could’ve- fuck, why didn’t he say anything?”

It was then that Louis realized that, until he’d gotten there, Gemma had had to be the strong one.  The one holding it all together.  Although he had not anticipated having to be her support system as well, right now she was the one that needed him.

“Shh, it’s okay.  It’s no one’s fault.  There’s nothing anyone could have done.  These things just happen sometimes.”  They were empty words – to him, at least – but Gemma seemed to be more forgiving of herself and nodded in acknowledgement.  “You look exhausted.  Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

Gemma pulled away and sniffed, wiping at the smeared makeup beneath her eyes with her sleeve.  “I can’t just l-leave him.”

Louis smiled sadly and put a hand on her shoulder.  “You didn’t.  You were there when he needed you.”  Unlike himself.  “You did everything right.”  He had no way of knowing whether that was true or not, but he would expect nothing less.  Besides, throwing blame around was not going to do anyone any good.

“And yet it still ended up so horribly wrong.”

Louis’ grip on her shoulder tightened for a second, then he forced himself to release his hand before he accidentally left bruises.  “No one could have known this would happen.”  She gave a noncommittal half-shrug.  “Thank you for everything tonight.  Really.”  He pulled her in for a quick hug then released her in the general direction of the elevators.  “You’ve given a lot tonight.  Go get some sleep, take a shower, and come back once you’ve taken care of yourself, yeah?”

She nodded, mostly because she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be there to see Harry’s face when they broke the news to him, and took off down the hall.

Louis centered himself once again – jiggled the handle on the door he’d closed in his heart to make sure it was still firmly locked – and took a few steps into the room.  His heart almost stopped when Harry stirred, but it was just an unconscious shift in position.

Louis slid into the bed beside him and Harry instinctually snuggled into his side.  He looked so peaceful, his long curls fanning out around his head like a halo and a soft purse to his lips.  Louis wished he could keep him like this forever, in this contented state between waking and sleep.  Without his knowledge or permission, a few tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and landed on Harry’s chin.  Louis swiped them away with the pad of his thumb, which lingered there for a moment too long, tracing back and forth across the perfect angle of his jaw.

“Mmm, Lou,” Harry mumbled sleepily, his chin bobbing down so that he could press his lips against Louis’ gentle fingers.  His movements were slow, sloppy, and he was obviously still heavily under the influence of whatever calming drugs they had given him.

“Shh, love, go back to sleep.  Rest now.”  In the dim room with his husband warmly tucked against him, Louis could almost pretend that everything was normal, everything was okay, and he wanted to savor these last few moments of peace for as long as possible.  “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Harry appeared to have already fallen back asleep when one final, almost inaudible question escaped his lips on barely more than a breath.  “Promise?”

Louis didn’t answer.


	4. The Christmas Party

The moment Harry woke up would replay in Louis’ nightmares, he was sure.  There was a split second of the pure joy that accompanies optimistic ignorance before reality comes crashing down.  Louis had seen Harry sad and upset – he experienced emotions very deeply and tended to express them outwardly in the form of crying or screaming or even destroying something.  It was what Louis expected, and therefore why he’d resolved to appear so stable – to be his life raft in the storm.

But this was different.

When the doctor came in and confirmed that Harry’s body had naturally miscarried, there were no outbursts or cries of anguish.  Just a few silent tears running down a face that was completely blank.  It was a mask of impassivity – cold and stoic – and it terrified Louis that he didn’t know what was going on behind it. 

It wasn’t until Louis made the mistake of asking when they could start trying to conceive again that the first spark of emotion flickered in him.  Harry lashed out, berated and shamed him for bringing it up at a time like this, and was banished from the room for several hours before being allowed back in.  He knew that this was just yet another mask – another layer protecting Harry’s heart from truly feeling the weight of his grief – but Louis was grieving too and it took all his willpower not to snap back something about this having been his goddamn idea in the first place.

Louis chose not to speak much after that.

Harry didn’t want to go home.  By now, everyone knew what had happened – what he’d had and then lost.  He could see it written on their faces every time they looked at him, hear it in every soft word they spoke around him.  Pity.  Sadness.  Uncertainty.  They didn’t know how to act around him anymore and he hated it.  It made him not want to be around anyone.

So he wasn’t.

As soon as they arrived home, Harry shut himself away in the would-be nursery.  Louis didn’t necessarily think torturing himself like that was helping the situation, but showed his support by dragging in a spare mattress and dropping off food at regular intervals, never allowed to stay for long.  It was his sanctuary and his mausoleum.

After several days, Harry ventured outside the confines of the room.  It was easy to fall back into step with his daughter – if anything, Rose had become more precious to him, their time together more valuable.  His interactions with friends and family were awkward at first, hesitant.  But they were far enough removed from his daily life that he found the strength enough to feign normalcy while they were around.

Louis was a different story.

When he looked at Louis, all he felt was pain – shame and grief and failure.  So he stopped looking.  When Louis touched him with such love and concern, all he felt was unworthy.  So he recoiled.  And every evasion was yet another strike against the man that was everything to him.  A man he felt he no longer deserved.

It was more than two weeks before Harry actually left the house.  Louis didn’t ask where he was going, and he didn’t say.  They were like two satellites, both sharing the same orbit but never quite crossing paths with each other.  Which was why, when Louis was getting ready for his office’s annual Christmas party, he was surprised to find Harry already in their closet sorting through his extensive collection of designer clothes.

“Were you planning on going with me tonight?”  Louis hadn’t meant the words to sound so incredulous – the party was a big deal, with lots of high end designers and even a few celebrities, and Harry had always loved getting the chance to charm them, especially once they had their beautiful daughter to show off.

“If Rosie’s going, I’m going,” he said without sparing a glance back.  Louis tried not to let the fact that she was his only motivation for going out with him sting too much.  “Am I still invited to come?”  Harry was well aware of his attitude as of late, of how badly he’d been treating his husband, and was suddenly unsure whether his presence would be welcome.

Louis shook off the sting of being so casually dismissed.  “Of course.  I’d love to have you by my side.”  He leaned over to peck his husband’s cheek, but Harry jerked forward, pretending to have uncovered the suit he intended to wear.  “I’ll, uh, meet you downstairs.”

As he walked away from yet another of Harry’s deflections, Louis continued the argument he’d been having with himself for weeks – trying to convince himself that Harry’s distance had very little to do with him, that this was just his way of coping with his pain.  He’d thought they would cling to each other through everything, but instead Louis was left to shed his tears in solitude.

The whole day up to this point had been a struggle – one disaster after another.  After several accident-free weeks in the kitchen – most likely due to the frequency of their ordering takeout – that morning Louis had managed to destroy their microwave by trying to heat up food that was held in non-microwaveable materials.  Later, he had managed to inadvertently tear a limb off of one of Rose’s stuffed animals, leaving her inconsolable for almost an hour.  Then they had run out of toilet paper and the corner store only had the cheap scratchy kind.

Seemingly everyone was in a bad mood by the time they were all dressed and standing in the foyer, only 45 minutes late.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Rose whined as Louis attempted to find their keys and coats.

“There’ll be food at the party, love,” Louis answered.

Normally this would have appeased her, but because she hadn’t eaten much for lunch due to the broken microwave, and hadn’t slept during her nap due to the amputation of her favorite toy, she was much crankier than usual.  “But I’m hungry _now_!  Daddy, I’m hungry,” she appealed to Harry, correctly assuming that Louis would not heed her pleas.

“A quick snack won’t hurt,” he said.

“If you were hungry, you should have had a snack when I asked you if you wanted one an hour ago,” Louis ground out, flitting around the room trying to find the one scarf that matched his outfit.

“You know the food they have at those parties – I doubt she’s going to want to eat oysters and steak tartare.”

They both knew that Rose would find plenty of appealing options at the dessert table, but it wouldn’t exactly be a very well-rounded meal and Louis swallowed his frustration and pride in the name of good parenting.  “Fine.  We’ll get some cheese and nuts for you to eat in the car.”

“I want juice!” she cried as Harry carried her into the kitchen to retrieve her food.

“Water!” Louis called after them – Rose had inherited Harry’s clumsiness, and he seriously doubted that her pristine white and silver dress would make it unscathed.

Either not having heard (or blatantly disregarding) Louis’ direction, Harry and Rose came back with a bowl of frosted animal crackers and a cup of orange juice.

“Might as well have just let her loose on the desserts,” Louis muttered under his breath as he watched her stuff what was basically a cookie into her mouth.

“Are you saying that you know how to be a better parent than me?”  Harry’s tone was mocking, goading, but there was a kernel of sincere insecurity at its core.  The trouble conceiving, then being unable to sustain it – something Harry had always thought he was made to do – made him start questioning everything.  Those insecurities were spreading, messing with his mind until he began to believe that he wasn’t cut out to be a father, a husband.  That maybe Louis had been right to keep his distance all those years ago.

Louis was too surprised by the question to be offended.  “Of course not.”  In fact, he’d always believed Harry to be the better parent of the two.  Is that what Harry thought?  What had been rattling around in his brain these past few weeks?  Perhaps Louis should not have been so accommodating in giving him space.  “Harry, are you—“

His question was cut off by a soft gasp at their waists.  Louis looked down to see Rose’s eyes wide… and a solid six ounces of bright orange liquid running down her front.

Whatever vulnerability they had almost shared in that moment was shattered as Harry grumbled bitterly, “Guess you were right.” 

He was about to take Rose to get cleaned up when Louis grabbed his arm to stop him.  “Go on upstairs and change into something clean, baby – whatever you want, just make it quick, yeah?”  Not wanting to risk angering her parents even more, she raced off up the stairs and left them alone together.  “What’s going on with you?  What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, trying not to sound too confrontational.

Harry let out a bitter laugh.  “Nothing’s _wrong_ with me.”  That’s what everyone kept telling him, anyway.  Nothing’s _wrong._   He didn’t do anything _wrong_.  If that was true, then why the hell did he feel so guilty?

“Haz, if I ever did or said anything—“  He had reached out a hand and placed it on Harry’s forearm, but he jerked back like it was a rattlesnake about to strike.

“You haven’t done anything.”  Although he meant the words to be mollifying – Louis had been the picture of support and strength, which only made him feel worse about his own failure to cope – his inward bitterness made it sound like an accusation.

“How would you know?  You can’t even stand to be in the same room as me.”  Damnit – he thought he’d bridled his tongue better than that, but maybe that was why Harry was always angry with him.  “Am I that unbearable?” he added, quieter this time.  Perhaps Harry had finally realized that he could do better – find someone who knew how to comfort and encourage him – and was purposely pulling away.

Harry wanted to groan – of course Louis would put the blame on himself for Harry’s actions, his temper.  But how could he explain it?  How could he tell his husband that it hurt to look at him, to be touched by him?  That every empathetic gesture reminded him of what he lost and that he was a failure in all the ways that mattered?

He shook his head, both at himself and in answer to Louis’ question.  But before he could form words, Rose skipped lightly down the steps and all previous thoughts were erased as a shock of grief coursed through his body.  “Take it off.”

Shit.

Of all the things she could have chosen, their sweet innocent little daughter had put on the ‘Big Sister’ shirt that she’d found weeks earlier.

“What?”  Rose slowed her descent, confused by the tinge of anger in her father’s voice.

Louis knelt down in front of her, blocking Harry’s view.  “You can’t wear that tonight, love.  Let’s go find something else.”

He tried to pull her away, but she wriggled out of his grasp and ran to Harry, who had been dutifully taking her side all day.  “No!  You said it was for Christmas time and the party is for Christmas.”

“I said no, Rose.”  Louis again tried to drag her upstairs, but she clung to Harry’s legs like a vice.

“No!  You _promised_!  You pinky promised!” she wailed, clear as day despite her head being buried in Harry’s thighs.

Harry disentangled himself from her grasp and knelt down to her level.  His tone was dangerous – a little too quiet, a little too calm.  “Go upstairs and change.  Right now.  You are not to put on that shirt again.  Do you understand?”

She may not have understood the reason for his words, the sorrow and rage simmering just below the surface, but Louis certainly did.  And it cut him to the core.  Rose saw it as a punishment – unwarranted, considering she’d done exactly what they’d asked.  But it was much worse than that.  She would never be allowed to wear the shirt because its words would never be true, at least not so long as she would still be able to fit into it.

Louis grabbed her and carried her upstairs before Harry snapped at her again.  Still, she had felt his disapproval and was sniffling back tears when he set her down in the middle of her room.  She didn’t even protest as Louis lifted her arms, stripping her of the offending garment and gently redressing her in an even more sparkly green dress that matched her eyes.  It was a bit overkill for the occasion – usually only brought out for weddings and such – but he knew it would go a long way toward putting her in a better mood.  Besides, kids could get away with wearing anything and look adorable.

“It’s alright, Rosie.  Daddy’s not mad – he’s just very sad,” he assured her when she resisted his attempts to pull her toward the door.  “I promise.”  Though, as she’d just pointed out, they had already broken one promise to her that night.  Still, she trusted and believed in her papa’s words over her own doubts, as most children do.

Oh, how he wished he could have that simple child-like faith again.

The party was its usual show of opulence and elegance.  They’d rented out a monolith of a modern ballroom and tastefully decked it out in black and gold and enough glittering crystals to blind someone if they caught the light wrong.  Harry had not said another word once they’d come back downstairs, and headed straight for the bar as soon as they walked through the door.

“Got no reason not to drink anymore,” he’d muttered so low that Louis guessed he was not supposed to hear it.

He did.

Rose was immediately snatched up and passed around by all her adoring fans – she’d made fast friends at the magazine when he started bringing her into work with him, especially once she was talking and once inadvertently told his entire office about the time she’d heard a crash and walked in on her daddies ‘wrestling’ on the kitchen table.

Louis had to work from home for a solid two months after that.

“Louiiiiiis!” Niall sang, clearly already having taken advantage of the open bar.  He wrapped Louis in a hug that had his feet several inches off the floor.

“And here I thought the Irish were supposed to be able to well hold their liquor,” Louis said with the remainder of air that hadn’t been squeezed out of his lungs.

“I see Harry made it as well – good for him getting out of the house.”  Louis hummed ambivalently.  Niall didn’t seem to notice, and continued on in excitement.  “Made it just in time for the fun stuff.”

All the executives were starting to congregate and line up to begin their long-winded speeches and awards.  Louis cocked an eyebrow.  “If this is your idea of fun, your sex life must be a goddamn tragedy.”

A devilish grin crossed Niall’s face.  “I’ll have you know, your childhood bestie over there is much kinkier than I am in the bedroom.”  He leaned in, but his voice was probably incapable of ever reaching a low enough volume to be considered a whisper.  “The things that man can do with a blindfold and a carton of strawberries—“

Louis slapped a hand over Niall’s mouth and made a show of pretending to gag.  “If you say another word, I’m going to lose every ounce of the unnecessarily expensive hors d’oeuvres sitting in my stomach.”

Niall shrugged.  “I’m just sayin’.  If you need any tips or anything…”  Louis looked like he was ready to shove something down Niall’s throat, so he wisely changed the subject to the reason he’d come over there in the first place.  “You’ll be wanting to pay attention to the announcements tonight,” he said cryptically.

“What does that mean?”  Niall’s tone made it sound like something positive, but Louis had always been wary of surprises.  Even if it was a good thing, Louis didn’t like to be caught off guard, and didn’t know how to act when thrust into the spotlight.  “Spill it.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”  Louis waited, knowing that Niall was not one to hold back on saying something that he was clearly dying to get out.  “You’ve been chosen to play in the Founders First!”  He clapped a hand over his mouth, as if shocked that he’d predictably let the secret slip.

“What?  Are you serious?”  Louis’ eyes went wide and he let out a squeak of surprise.  Every year, the football league organized a televised charity tournament to raise money for various national cancer research foundations.  Some of the best players in the country – both active and retired – came together along with a few local celebrities that possessed at least a moderate grasp of the game.  Back when he still had a promising future in football, Louis had been invited to watch one of these games; everyone assumed that one day he’d be on that field, and the dream had stuck with him ever since.

Technically, they were correct – he would be participating.  Just not in the way anyone expected.

“Holy shit – you’re not kidding?”  Niall shook his head and suddenly Louis felt about on par with his level of intoxication.

When the announcement officially came, Louis didn’t have to fake his reaction – he was still as dumbstruck as when Niall had first let it slip.  He was grinning like a fool as he went around shaking hands, Rose clapping furiously and basking in all the secondhand attention she was receiving from her father’s recognition.

The person who should have been the most excited for him – the one who scoffed and ridiculed the stupid admins every year for once again leaving the most obvious choice off their roster – was either not listening or not interested in the news.  Harry was engaged in conversation with two very beautiful women, who were currently laughing at whatever he’d just said.  A little too loudly, in Louis’ opinion… Harry’s jokes weren’t that funny.

Louis wasn’t jealous.  Not in the way he expected to be, anyway.  It wasn’t that the girls were obviously interested – Harry was an incredible human specimen, and tended to attract that sort of attention wherever he went.  It was more the way he was acting around them.  Relaxed, carefree, light.  Sharing this side of himself freely with everyone but Louis, as he had been all night.

Ever since they’d gotten back from the hospital, it had seemed like Harry was either openly hostile or completely withdrawn.  Then, when he started opening himself up to those closest to them, Louis assumed it was because that’s who he was most comfortable around.  That it was only a matter of time before it was Louis’ turn to be let back in.

But now he was even engaging with complete strangers, and Louis was starting to think that maybe Harry really was doing okay, that he was beginning to move on and be happy again.  But that would mean that his closed off, short-fused demeanor was reserved especially for Louis, and he wasn’t sure how much longer his strength would hold, how much longer he could endure such isolation and rejection before Harry finally opened back up to him.

He had to try.

Perhaps it was amplified by the alcohol in his system, but the entire night Harry had been gifting the crowd with his coy smiles, dancing with unsuspecting executives, even telling cheeky stories enhanced with flirty touches.  But when Louis finally found and approached his absent husband to share his exciting news, the mood around the circle completely changed.  Harry became more reserved, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest.  There was no more laughter.  The girls offered their polite congratulations, Harry a tentative smile.

It hurt, but it was frequent enough now that it was a pain he was getting used to, and Louis was not so selfish as to impede Harry’s rare enjoyment of a night out for the sake of his own neediness.  He skulked back to his table and flopped into a chair next to Liam.

“You’ve been wanting that thing for years,” he said, gesturing to the ceremonial offer letter in Louis’ hand.  “Why do you look like your dog just died?”

Louis threw the paper onto the table.  The corner absorbed some liquid residue left over from dinner and would soon be stained and weathered.  He couldn’t care less.  “I’m fucking ecstatic.”

“Louis –“

Louis waved his hand in front of him dismissively.  “This isn’t the place to discuss my marital problems, yeah?”  His eyes flicked toward the spot where Harry had just been, but he was already gone – moved on to charm a new set of his coworkers, no doubt.

“You and Harry are having problems?”  Liam was surprised – the few times they had spoken, Harry had seemed fine; maybe a little quiet, a little reserved.  And tonight he was a downright social butterfly.  But Louis squirmed, and Liam took that as confirmation.  “Want to talk about it?”

Louis rolled his eyes – what did he _just_ say?  “You’re not the one I need to be talking to.”  He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair.  “He won’t talk to me.  Won’t look at me.  Won’t… won’t touch me.”  He lowered his voice, but still had to speak fairly loudly over the thrum of ambient conversation and music.  “We don’t even sleep in the same bed together.”

Liam leaned back in his chair.  Louis and Harry were two of the most physically connected people he knew – the fact that they’d been apart all this time was disconcerting.  “Have you told him how you feel?”

“Fuck, Liam, I can’t do that.  We were supposed to have a baby, and then somehow it all got messed up.  I can’t just handcuff him to the bed and pounce on him because I’m lonely.”  Liam waited to see if he’d continue, but instead Louis tried for a rapid change in topic.  “Although according to Niall, that sounds like something you might enjoy.”

Liam cursed under his breath and turned an amusing shade of red.  Instead of taking the bait, he steered the conversation back toward its intended course.  Uptight twat.

“You need to talk to him about it.  He may be hurting, but now he’s hurting you too.  And you deserve to find contentment just as much as he does.”

Louis snorted – he wasn’t so sure he believed that.

Harry, who had been lingering nearby, had his attention drawn to their conversation at the mention of his name and caught the tail end of their exchange.

It nearly broke him.

He already felt like a failure as a father, and now he was completely failing as a husband.  He was not meeting Louis’ needs – of course he knew that, but he hadn’t realized that Louis, who had seemed so calm and steadfast throughout everything, would be so affected by it – and one day he was sure Louis would leave him for it.

The idea of having sex – of having the man’s hands roam and give pleasure to the body that had so severely disappointed him – was almost unfathomable.  But Harry could do it.  He _would_ do it, if for no other reason than he needed Louis by his side.  He wasn’t sure he’d continue to survive otherwise.

It had been easy to joke and banter with these people he didn’t know – to pretend he hadn’t a care in the world amongst people who were oblivious to his story and his suffering and spoke without reservation.  It would be harder to maintain the charade around Louis, who knew him so well, but he would do it. 

Harry took another few shots and maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t remember anything in the morning.

Louis was suspicious when Harry grabbed his hand and smiled at him as they took a sleepy Rose out to the car.  He nearly swerved off the road when Harry reached over to palm him over his trousers on the way home.  He was downright paranoid when Harry attacked him with his mouth just after he’d closed the door to Rose’s bedroom for the night.

“Harry, what’s gotten into you?” Louis asked, almost fearing the answer as Harry sucked at his collarbone with precision and intensity.  He left a lingering love bit there and worked his way up Louis’ neck to his ear.

“I was rather hoping it would be you getting into me,” he purred, practically carrying Louis’ stunned form into their bedroom.  He made quick work of Louis’ shirt, and had already started unbuttoning his dress pants.

“Wait, stop.”  Louis pushed Harry’s hands away, honestly trying to figure out what the hell was going on and how he was already half-naked.  In lieu of ceasing his flurry of activity – fingers surprisingly dexterous considering the amount of alcohol in his bloodstream – Harry instead turned his attention to his own layers of clothing.  “What are you doing?”

In record time – before he could think about what he was about to do or change his mind – Harry was completely undressed and perched on the edge of the bed.  “If you don’t know, we’ve clearly been doing something wrong.”

Louis stepped into the space between Harry’s legs.  He wanted this – god, did he want this – but something was wrong.  Off.  He didn’t want to take advantage of Harry and whatever mood-altering drugs were in his system – they would both regret it in the morning.  “Haz—“

Harry knew that look, but he didn’t want sympathy, didn’t want understanding.  He wanted to do his fucking best to make Louis happy, so instead of letting him finish, he wrapped his legs around Louis’ waist and pulled his body on top of him.  Harry’s tongue aggressively invaded his mouth, and Louis’ resolve faltered.  He was only human.

He pushed Harry back on the bed, following him on his knees and never breaking contact.  His touch-starved fingers drank in every beautiful peak and valley of Harry’s upper body, and his mouth was not far behind.  Four hands made short work of the remainder of Louis’ clothing as their dance became faster, more urgent.

Selfishly, Louis ignored the red flags – the fact that Harry’s closed eyes were just a little to pinched, his fists clenched a little too tight.  It was only a few minutes into their reunion that Harry parted his legs – an invitation to receive Louis’ cock.  After their dry spell, Louis was fairly certain that Harry was not warmed up enough for this yet – another warning sign.  But it was easy enough for Louis to convince himself that maybe Harry was just as achingly desperate for this as he was.

Ignoring his better instincts, Louis lined himself up with Harry’s entrance.

And that’s when he saw it.

Harry flinched.  It was the barest hint of movement – come and gone in a fraction of a second and only caught out of the corner of his eye, but it was there.  An instinctual recoil akin to the reaction you’d have right before a punch to the face – a motion Louis was all too familiar with – and it gave him pause. 

He knew what it meant. 

Beneath the bravado, beneath the bold action and brazen words, Harry was scared.  And as much as Louis wanted this, even he was not that selfish.

Harry sensed the shift in his partner and desperately pulled Louis’ hips toward him, but Louis used the momentum to roll to the side and continued until he was off the bed entirely, and at that moment Harry felt him pulling away in every sense of the word.

Louis was breathing heavily, trying to separate the conflicting thoughts and feelings coursing through his body and mind.  “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m giving you what you want.  This is what you wanted.”  He’d heard him say as much at dinner, and he would do it even if it killed him.

“I don’t want this.”  Louis missed the sex, yes, but what he really wanted was intimacy.  This would not fix anything.

Hurt flashed in his eyes at the rejection and swiftly morphed into anger.  “Why not?  Am I not living up to your expectations?  Because I haven’t let you fuck me for a few weeks, you’re done with me?”  His words were beginning to slur, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the alcohol or simply the overwhelming emotions fighting their way to the surface.

“Fuck, that’s not what I meant.”  Here was the hostility that he’d come to expect, but there was something different about it now, something desperate and sad.  “Please don’t cry.”

Harry hadn’t even realized that moisture was streaming down his cheeks.  He didn’t bother wiping them away.  “Well I’m sorry I have feelings – that I actually give a shit about things.  I’m sorry that this body couldn’t carry a child like yours could.  I’m sorry that this body isn’t good enough for you to fuck anymore.  I’m sorry that I can’t move on quick enough for you – that I can’t be as unaffected by the loss of my fucking _child_ as you.”

Every word was like a punch to the gut, and Louis was really fucking tired of people implying that Harry was the only one suffering, the only one that had lost something.  “Is that really what you think of me?”  His even tone was a stark contrast to Harry’s reckless anger, pouring more fuel onto the twisted, unfair notion that Louis cared nothing for their loss.

“Do you want to have sex with your husband tonight or not?” he asked instead of answering Louis’ question.

Louis knelt down beside the bed and used the pad of his thumb to wipe the tear tracks from Harry’s cheeks – he saw very little of the man he’d married in the storm raging behind Harry’s eyes.  To deny him would be confirming every damnable claim he’d just hurled at Louis, but to indulge him would strip away whatever shreds of self-worth he had left.  So he compromised.

“Ask me again another night, if you still feel so inclined.”  He got up, tugged on a pair of sweatpants, and started for the door.  “For tonight, I’ll be on the couch.”


	5. The Hail Mary

When Harry awoke the next morning, he nearly gagged at the smell of stale alcohol and regret still heavy in the room.  He sprinted toward the bathroom, making it in just enough time to empty out the leftover liquor from his stomach into the toilet and kept his head hovering over the bowl even as he spun the dial on the shower.

The hot water (and previous intestinal purge) was doing well to wash away the nausea, but his head was still pounding and his limbs felt weighted down with lead.  He stayed in there far too long rehearsing an apology, even wondering if he could sneak out and pick up flowers before groveling before his husband.  When he finally dragged himself back out into the bedroom, the offending garments from the night before had been removed and the nightstand held a plate of blueberry pancakes and a bottle of aspirin.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief at the display before him.  He took a few tentative bites of the food, which wasn’t burned or misshapen in the slightest, and about twice the recommended dosage of medicine before shuffling to the closet.  He chose his outfit carefully – a silky gold button-down that Louis always said brought out the matching flecks in his eyes and a pair of ripped white jeans that he almost never wore.

Louis and Rose were assembling a puzzle on the coffee table when he quietly descended the stairs.  Well, Louis was doing the puzzle – Rose was delegating the work, forcing him to find pieces for her small center block even as he was systematically stringing together the edges.  The floor squeaked beneath his feet and Louis looked up.

“Good morning,” he said warmly, an easy smile playing at his lips.

“Daddy!”  Rose leapt up, knocking half the loose puzzle pieces onto the floor, and ran into his arms.  “Maybe _you_ can help with the middle pieces.”  She pulled him over to their work area and down to a seated position, situating herself on his lap.  His arms were long, and he could easily reach around her small frame to assist.

They played and ate and sang along with the Frozen soundtrack for the thousandth time, all in companionable calm.  It became easy enough to just forget that last night had ever happened, but Harry’s anxiety returned in full force when Louis took Rose up for her nap.  He wasn’t ready to face what he’d done, the things he’d said.

So while Louis was still coaxing Rose into staying in bed, Harry grabbed his keys and coat and hopped into his car.  He didn’t have anywhere to go, but he made sure to stay out long enough that his daughter was awake by the time he got back.

Harry loaded the unnecessary groceries into the fridge, gave Rose the unnecessary My Little Pony figure to add to her collection, and popped in the unnecessary movie he’d bought for them to watch that night.  He’d also brought home dinner, which wasn’t entirely unnecessary.

He still felt like a coward.

But that didn’t stop him from feigning exhaustion and insisting that he head up to bed early, before the movie was even over.

Louis let him.

For days Harry was on edge, always expecting to be cornered and questioned and reprimanded for his behavior.  But it never came.  Louis was his same messy, kind, playful self.  There was no anger, but the indifference was almost worse – maybe he’d had enough and truly just didn’t care anymore.

They had gone up to stay with Anne for a week at Christmas.  Normally they would have waited and spent Louis’ birthday with Lottie first, but she and Don were on holiday in the Greek islands.  Somehow, Gemma and her latest beau had latched onto their plans, remorseless except for the promise that she’d return by New Year’s feeling extra guilty about it.

Anne was just as happy to spend time alone with her son’s family.  When they walked into her house and saw the mountain of presents waiting under the tree, Louis almost made a remark questioning whether Anne realized they only had the one child to buy for, but caught himself when he realized the hurt they would inflict.

He’d gotten much better at holding his tongue since Harry had pointed out how cruelly he wielded it.  He was breaking inside, a little more each day, but refused to let it escape the hollow chamber he’d carved in his heart for it.  Harry would never heal if he felt so much as an ounce of judgment or pressure from Louis.

So Louis would not give him a reason.

To anyone else, they would look like the picture of perfection and civility, but Anne could tell something was off.  Maybe it was because Harry could barely meet her eyes.  Maybe it was because she’d gotten up in the night and seen Louis sleeping on the couch downstairs.  Or maybe it was because she knew her son better than anyone and could see beneath the shiny exterior into the rusting and unstable infrastructure barely holding it all together.

“What would you like to do for your birthday, my love?” she asked Louis the day before said occasion.  “Any gifts you want me to fight the last minute Christmas shoppers for?”

As much as Louis would very much like to see sweet, innocent Anne muscle her way through the tempestuous crowds, he shook his head.  “I have everything I need right here.”

“You don’t want _any_ presents, papa?” Rose asked, her little four-year-old mind completely flabbergasted by the idea.

“I think we’ll have a hard enough time finding places for all the presents nana got for just _you_ this year, little one.”  Rose beamed, momentarily distracted from her own incredulity by her soon to be spoils.

Despite protests from both Harry and Louis, Anne declared that she would take Rose out to see the Christmas displays and get hot chocolate and do some last minute shopping.  Her smile was a little too innocent as she declared, “My gift will be giving you two an entire day to spend together.”

Well, fuck.

Rose had been a good buffer – a welcome distraction from Harry’s wary, hesitant demeanor as of late – but she was stolen away in the early morning hours of Christmas Eve.  Louis could see it in Harry’s eyes as soon as he came down the stairs.  He felt trapped.  Even he couldn’t abandon his husband on his birthday, but he also had no idea how to be alone with him anymore.

Louis was well aware by this point of Harry’s instinct to flee, and gave him the out he so desperately sought.  “I’ve taken stock of the kitchen, and it appears we are woefully unprepared for dinner tomorrow – would you mind running out and picking up a few things?”

Harry visibly relaxed, relieved.  “Of course.  Whatever you need.”

Louis held in the bitter scoff that threatened to pass his lips – his needs hadn’t mattered in quite some time.  “Take your time – I can… I dunno, read a book or something.”

There was a time that Harry would have laughed at that – Louis never read anything but the sports section.  But now, all he did was offer a soft smile and say, “Have fun,” as he threw on his coat and walked out the door.  As Louis stared after him, he wondered if Harry was actually starting to believe the lie they’d both silently agreed to live within.  The one that allowed them to make it through the day without punching more holes into each others’ hearts.

It was self-preservation – they would survive this way.

He was beginning to think their marriage might not.

Instead of picking up an old paperback from the shelf, as he’d threatened to do, Louis found himself wandering toward the back of the house.  A beautiful baby grand piano, looking soft and lonely bathed in the early morning light streaming through the large windows, beckoned him.  They didn’t have room for such an instrument in their own house, and his fingers twitched in response, itching to make audible the aching that sang through his body in time with the metronome of his heartbeat.

There was no sheet music, so his body danced through pieces it could recall from memory.  When he’d exhausted that limited repertoire, with the exception of one he could not bear to play, he let his hands wander.  He let them find their way toward the chords and patterns that resonated with the fear and melancholy that had been locked away inside him for weeks.  It created a soft, sad melody that pierced through the quiet house and made it feel all the more empty.

He took a break to raid the kitchen for sweets – it was his birthday, after all, and he could have cookies for lunch if he wanted to.  He’d left his phone in there from breakfast, and when he checked it there was a message from Harry that had been sent shortly after he’d left.

_Stores are mobbed – might not get back until late_.

Louis had assumed this would be the case, but somehow seeing it in writing was worse.  They had both known that the errand was a frivolous one, and now Harry was proactively trying to avoid him.

This was the beginning of the end.  Louis had known it was too good to be true – this perfect life with a perfect husband and daughter.  He didn’t deserve it, and now he was convinced that the universe was finally righting itself by taking it all away.

Once again, he found himself in front of the ivory keys.  His hands were surprisingly steady and smooth as they graced through the one classical piece he’d been too hesitant, too afraid to play before.

Pachelbel’s Canon.

It was the song he’d played for Harry just before he told Louis he loved him for the first time.  The song they’d walked down the aisle to.  The song they’d played for Rose as a lullaby when she cried in the night as a baby.  Before Harry, his life had been plagued by fear.  He thought he’d conquered the dark shadow hanging over his future, but apparently he’d just found another to replace it – sorrow.

He played the melody over and over and over again until he could do it with his eyes shut.  There were no lyrics to the song, but soon melody was not enough and words spilled out of Louis’ mouth – whatever came to mind, whatever thoughts and feelings and memories happened to be stirred up – even though singing was something Louis swore he was awful at and would never inflict upon another person. 

But no one else was there.

He was alone.

And that was the whole goddamn point.

“My happiness you were, you are, and always you will be.  When you laugh, when you sing, when you cry, and when you dream.”  The phrases came in starts and stops, but he seamlessly wove together transitions and repeated measures to fill in any gaps.  To anyone listening, it might have sounded like the improvisations were actually planned, transforming the piece into something more, something unique and personal.

That’s how it sounded to Harry.

When he’d gotten in his car that morning, he’d fully intended on avoiding his problems – his husband – for the entire day.  As he walked around the supermarket, though, he came across a bouquet of yellow roses.  Odd.  It was out of season for the flower – they were the color of spring – and they were set apart from the rest, the only one of its kind among the display.

Guilt had been weighing on him since the moment he left, and he took it as a sign that he should return home.  He didn’t know what he expected to find when he walked through the door, but it certainly wasn’t the soft and gentle music flowing in a pattern that he recognized immediately, having played like a soundtrack over some of the most important moments in his life.

As he got closer, he realized that a voice floated above the flow of the piano keys, like a cloud of fog hovering hauntingly over a morning river.  It was as beautiful as it was sad, like it came straight from the mouth of a mourning angel – full of anguish and longing.

Was that his Louis?

 “When you are near or when you are far, you always will be – always were, and always are – my beloved, my soulmate, my number one weakness, and my greatest strength.”

There were several pauses, seemingly natural between words or phrases, but it wasn’t until Harry was almost directly behind him that he noticed the small tremors, the shaky breaths that filled those spaces.

Louis was crying.

 “Louis,” Harry whispered brokenly, taking a seat next to him on the bench.

Louis glanced over, and… fuck, Harry looked so soft and pleading with those puppy dog eyes and pouting lips, some indescribable emotion creasing the gap between his brows.  It was the first time he’d truly looked at him in weeks, and without thinking, without regarding the rules of their tenuous truce, Louis leaned forward to close the distance between them, holding Harry’s gaze as his face inched closer, closer.

At the last second, Harry twisted his chin to the side to dodge the kiss.  Another piece of Louis’ heart crumbled away and he angled his body to the side, hoping to shield Harry from the anguish that he could no longer hide from his face.

Harry hadn’t thought he could feel any more guilt and shame than he already did, but now Louis sobbed quietly beside him – so close and yet entirely out of reach.  Harry had seemingly broken the strongest man he knew, the man that he loved and needed more than anyone else in the world… and something had to give.  “What- what do I do?  How can I fix this?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”  Louis turned completely away and perched on the short edge of the seat, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.  After only a brief hesitation, Harry scooted up behind him and wrapped his body around Louis’ shaking form.  It was all too much and Louis was gasping, desperately trying to hold onto the self-control he prided himself on.

How?  How had he fucked this up so badly?  Harry – the one who had suffered the most – was now trying to comfort Louis because, what?  He didn’t pay enough attention to him while he was grieving the loss of his child?  The whole thing just made Louis feel even worse, which then caused him to cry harder and Harry to hold him closer and it was all just one big fucked up mess.

Louis tore himself out of Harry’s embrace and stumbled his way over to the living room, where he had to brace himself against the couch as he attempted to get his breathing under control.  It was only a moment of stunned silence before Harry followed him out there, careful not to get too close this time.

“I’m sorry.  So sorry,” Louis croaked from the depths of his aching lungs.  “You should… go out to dinner.  Or something.  Go to the movies.  Fuck, just do anything to get away from your pathetic husband before I ruin everything any more than I already have.”

“Do you… do you want me to leave?”  Harry honestly wouldn’t blame him; he’d been a hot mess a lot recently, and wasn’t exactly a joy to be around most of the time.

Louis laughed mirthlessly – that was the exact opposite of what he wanted.  “No, I want you to fuck me.”

At this, Harry startled, not sure he’d heard correctly.  “What?”

Louis spun around and threw his hands up in exasperation.  “I want you to fuck me, Harry!  Jesus.”

“But… but you don’t- you didn’t want to.”  Although Harry hadn’t actually wanted to at the time, Louis’ rebuff after the Christmas party had still hurt him in ways he didn’t understand.

“Oh, I wanted to,” he said with a bitter laugh.  “But I know that you’re hurting, and you’re not ready, and I didn’t want to push you.  I don’t.  But I miss my husband, Haz.  God, I miss being able to grab your ass and suck you off and make you scream in goddamn blasphemous ecstasy.”  Louis had been pacing and staring at the ceiling, but when the heat of his sexual frustration had waned his shoulders slumped and he fixed his helpless gaze on Harry.  “I feel like I’m losing you.”  His anger had been replaced by despair and the tears again sprang to his eyes.  “I’m doing all the wrong things and you’re pulling away and I can’t- fuck, I don’t know how to live without you anymore.”

Louis was practically hyperventilating and Harry gathered him up in his arms.  He knew he’d been distant, but it wasn’t Louis’ fault.  His presence was a constant reminder of everything Harry had lost, of his own failures and mistakes.  The shame and guilt and sorrow that he carried had somehow formed a wedge between them.  He could feel it, but he didn’t know what to do, how to break it.  “I’m here now.  I’m right here.”

Louis shook his head.  “But don’t you see?  That’s the worst of it.  You’re here, but you’re not _here._ ”

“I don’t know what to do.  What do you want me to do?”  Harry used to be the emotionally intelligent one, but he had been so messed up lately that he didn’t even know anything was wrong outside his own little sphere of unhappiness, that his suffering was causing others to suffer, much less how to fix it.  Yet another thing to feel guilty for.

“Can I- would you let me kiss you?”  The words were out of Louis’ mouth before he could think better of them.

Harry’s eyes held the answer that his conflicted tongue couldn’t seem to articulate.  “Lou—“

Louis glanced away, the look of hope once again replaced by one of resignation.  “It’s alright.”  And it was – it had been a desperate, selfish plea anyway.  Louis had long survived without physical affection; he could do it again for as long as necessary.  But there was one thing he needed to know, had been too afraid to ask.  “Do you still love me?”

Harry had his head downcast so Louis couldn’t read his expression, but his body jerked as if it had been struck.  When he looked up there were tears streaming down his face.  “Do you love _me_?” he asked instead of answering.

“Yes.”  There was no hesitation.  It was not a decision he had to think about, but simply a fact of the universe.  It was like asking if the sun was hot – there was nothing that could change the answer, it simply _was._ “Always.”

“Why?”  Louis didn’t have an immediate response, and Harry proceeded to explain all the reasons it should not be so.  “I’ve got nothing, Louis.  I’m hollow.  Empty.  An open chasm that will swallow and destroy anything that gets too close – and there is not enough love in the world to fill it.”

Louis smiled sadly – even in the depths of his agony, Harry was a goddamn poet.  Well, Harry may be in tremendous pain, but it was still new to him, still a stranger.  But Louis knew suffering and all its ugly relatives, and he knew this pain was not such a black hole so much as a grand canyon.  “You are not empty, Harry.  You’re broken.”

Harry winced.  “I don’t see how that’s any better.”

Louis reached out to brush away the hair that had fallen in Harry’s face and clung to the moisture on his skin, and for once he didn’t pull away from the touch.  “The difference, my love, is that broken things can be fixed.  You can make it through this.”  He was sure of it; he just didn’t know if those pieces that had previously belonged to Louis would still find a place there.

Harry shook his head.  “ _You_ can make it through this.  But you’ve always been stronger than I could ever be.”

Now it was Louis’ turn to shake his head.  “Breaking is easy.”  Painful, but easy.  “It takes much more strength to love the broken.”  Harry’s eyes were uncomprehending, and Louis reached out in boldness once again to take Harry’s hands in his, and was once again rewarded with an acceptance of the gesture.  “Over the course of my life, the world has found a thousand ways to break me.  But you… you have found a thousand and one ways to put me back together again.”  He gave Harry’s hands a quick squeeze.  “ _That_ is strength.  _That_ is love.”  Which led him to his final question.  “So, will you let me do that for you now?  Will you let me love you?”

Harry was quiet after that.  This was a turning point in their relationship, a start down a path that would either tear them apart or bring them closer than they’d ever been before.  As the silence stretched on, Louis became more and more convinced that it wouldn’t be the latter.

Then, slowly, like a stray dog to a bit of food in a stranger’s hand, Harry inched forward.  He never broke eye contact as he leaned down, letting their breaths mingle for a few seconds before the distance was closed and skin touched skin.

Louis didn’t move – couldn’t move – as Harry’s lips settled on his own.  They lingered there, locking together like pieces of a puzzle, before starting to work – to test and tease.

It hadn’t been all that long since they’d been together like this, but so much had happened since then.  It was slow at first, like trying to remember the steps to a forgotten dance, they found their rhythm.

Louis followed Harry’s lead… to the couch, to the floor, then up the stairs and to the bedroom.  It wasn’t the environment they were used to, but that made it easier somehow, to not be surrounded by reminders of their past.

Every move was careful and deliberate – a slight pause that gave either party the opportunity to stop if ever and whenever they wanted to.

Neither of them wanted to.

Once they had both been stripped bare, both emotionally and physically, it was easy for their bodies to remember and respond to what their minds had been so afraid to embrace. 

What started with lips and tongues and teeth expanded to include legs and hips and fingers – each touch an offering, each embrace an acceptance, and gentle hands like balms to their wounds.

Out of habit, Louis reached between them to loosen Harry up and it was only then that their rhythm faltered.  Harry bit his lip in an attempt to hold back a whimper and Louis froze, thinking maybe he had expected too much, gone too far too fast.

“Did I—fuck, I’m sorry.  We don’t have to—“

“No, it’s not that.”  Harry was shaking his head, but he looked on the verge of tears.  “I just… I can’t…”

“Really, it’s fine.  It’s okay.”  Louis’ dick might say otherwise, but god he really didn’t want to ruin this.  “I’m sorry.”  He started to pull away when Harry wrapped a long leg around his waist.

“Please don’t leave me.”  There was a moment, as they stared assessing each other, where Harry was afraid that Louis would walk out on him – like Harry had done so many times to him.  But then he sat back on his heels and a mischievous smile crossed his face.  “What—“

In one swift motion, Louis had scooted back, gotten on all fours, and taken Harry into his mouth.  It was so pleasantly startling that Harry inadvertently bucked his hips up, causing Louis to gag.

“Shit, sorry, couldn’t—“  His words were cut off when Louis, who seemed more encouraged than turned off by the reaction, started doing what Harry could only describe as goddamn pirouettes with his tongue.  It was just before his breaking point when he finally gained control of his breath again.  “Lou?”

“Hmm?”  He hummed the word around Harry’s cock, and fuck if the added vibration didn’t almost push him over the edge right then and there.

“Lou, wait.”  Louis removed himself with a quaint pop and looked up at him questioningly.  He looked so adorable, his tan cheeks flushed red and his unkempt fringe stuck at awkward angles to the sweat on his forehead, and finally Harry found the courage to say what he couldn’t earlier.  “I want to be inside you.”

“What?  But…”

Oh.

Louis was an idiot.

They’d been trying to get Harry pregnant for years, so Louis had just automatically taken up their usual positions… but of course Harry would be wary of doing so now – it brought up too many memories, too many still raw associated emotions.

“Yeah.  I’m just not… I’m not ready for that yet.  Don’t wanna risk it, you know?”

“Of course.  No, yeah, obviously.”

There was a moment of awkward silence where Louis seemed to have gone deep in thought.  Harry, still tight with unreleased tension, brought his mind back to the question at hand.  “So, is that… would that be alright?”

“What?  Oh, right.”  He still wasn’t sure Harry wasn’t just doing this for his sake, because it’s what he thought Louis wanted.  “Are you sure?”

“Only if you are?”

Louis repositioned his knees to straddle Harry’s thighs and bent at the waist so that he was leaning over Harry’s chest.  He placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s lips as his fingers drew meandering lines down his chest and along his sides, pausing to thumb at the dip in the crest of his hipbones.  “Hell.  Yes.”


	6. The New Beginning

As they laid in bed, the late afternoon sky was just beginning to don her coat of bright pinks and oranges in preparation for the dark of the evening.  The walls that had built up between them were lower than they had been in a while, but it would take more than just sex – mind-blowing, reality altering sex, though it was – to demolish them completely.

“So, you kind of know how I’ve been feeling,” Louis began, the words mumbled against Harry’s skin as his head rested against his chest.  He traced lazy patterns around Harry’s tattoos that left goosebumps in their wake.  “What, uh… what’s been rolling around in that noggin of yours lately?”

Harry almost rolled his eyes at the forced nonchalance in Louis’ voice, but he supposed it was his own fault that Louis was so guarded and hesitant with his words.  He decided to poke fun at himself, as if telling Louis that it was okay to speak freely and openly.  “What gave it away – the irrational outbursts of anger or the high school drama club level of silent brooding?” 

Louis huffed.  “I’m serious, Harry.  You’ve been scaring the shit out of me.”

When his joke fell flat, Harry continued with a more serious answer.  He untangled himself from Louis and sat on the edge of the bed – it would be easier for him to say out loud if he didn’t have to look Louis in the eye.  “I can’t- I don’t know if I can describe it, really.”

Louis crawled over and wrapped his torso around Harry’s back.  “Try.  Please.”  He placed a series of kisses along Harry’s shoulder until he relaxed slightly.  “I just want to understand.”

“Me too,” Harry admitted, releasing a big sigh.  “I just… there was a life growing inside me.  We created a new person.  And I just can’t accept that I’ll never get to meet her – never know whether she’d have green eyes or blue; whether she’d play sports like you or have two left feet like me; whether she’d be an artist or a teacher or a scientist… I mean, what if she was going to cure cancer, Lou?” he cried, curling in on himself.

Without realizing it, both Louis and Harry had positioned their hands on his tummy, and Louis was grateful that Harry could not see the tears begin to well in his eyes.  “She would have been amazing, love.  Just like Rosie.”

Harry nodded.  “But now I’ll never know.  I don’t even have a picture of her.  I never got to see her or hear her heart beating or feel her moving inside me.  I- she’s gone and now it’s like she was never even there.”  He shifted so that he was partially turned back toward the center of the bed and Louis nestled his head into the crook of Harry’s neck.  “I feel like it shouldn’t hurt this much.  Like I shouldn’t have been able to fall so deeply and irrevocably in love with someone in just a few weeks.”

Louis looked up then, a half-smile playing at his lips.  “If I recall correctly, that’s all the time you claim it took for you to fall in what I hope is still a deep and irrevocable love with me.”  He was half-joking, but really he still wasn’t quite sure how Harry felt about him after all this.

Harry’s expression turned thoughtful, then he cupped a hand around Louis’ face tenderly.  “I know I’ve been horrible to you, but please don’t think that anything can make me stop loving you – not until the mountains crumble and the oceans dry up, and then forever after that.”

Louis twisted his head to kiss the palm at his cheek, any words he may have had caught in his throat.  It was never Harry’s love that he questioned – no, even when they were broken up he never doubted that Harry loved him.  But, like then, Louis also knew that love was not always enough to keep people together.  That sometimes it was more painful to stay with the ones you loved than to suffer the heartbreak of leaving them behind.

“You know I feel the same,” he said when it seemed like Harry was waiting for confirmation before continuing.

“So I never stopped loving you,” he repeated, “but it also hurt to be around you.  You were so happy and then I just… I fucked it all up.”

Louis brushed his fingertips down Harry’s arm, following the path of his muscles down to his hand, where he interlaced their fingers.  “Would you believe me if I told you that I’m still so incredibly happy?”  Harry looked like he was about to protest, so Louis continued before he could answer.  “I have two overly invasive best friends.  An irreplaceable pain-in-the-ass sister.  An annoyingly perceptive mother-in-law.  A much too endearing daughter.  And,” he brought up their hands to place a kiss on the back of Harry’s, “a husband whose heart is sometimes bigger and fuller than he can handle.”

Harry closed his eyes and brought Louis fully onto his lap.  “Can you forgive me?”

Louis wasn’t sure what he was asking forgiveness for – losing the baby, shutting him out, running away from their problems.  He didn’t think Harry really needed his forgiveness for any of those things.  “Only if you can forgive yourself, my love.”  Harry neither accepted nor rejected absolution, but Louis resolved that they’d had enough of the heavy stuff for the day.  “Now, can we please go take a shower before your mother gets home so she doesn’t have to bear witness to what her son has done to me?”

They both knew that this whole day was by her orchestration, but… well, how often were they ever alone with a soaker tub anymore?

When Anne finally stuck her head in at half past eight, Harry and Louis were cuddled on the couch watching the latest Netflix original romantic comedy.  They went a few more rounds in the bedroom – and bathroom, and then back to the bedroom again – but they were out of practice and eventually needed a break.  Honestly, Louis was just as happy to be spending time together, finally starting to open up to each other as they threw together several batches of Christmas cookies and made up ridiculous words on the Scrabble board.

It would take many more days like this one before they were back to where they used to be, but suddenly that didn’t seem so impossible anymore.  Depending on the chosen activity, it could even turn out to be quite fun.

Rose managed to snag several cookies before galloping up the stairs for bedtime, having fawned over each of her parents’ works to the point that they each felt the need to reward her with a treat, and then guilting Anne into giving her another when she not-so-subtly implied that she hadn’t had any yet.  It wasn’t technically lying, plus Louis was in a very forgiving mood, so he let it slide when he saw her mouth once again crusted with sugar when he went up to help her brush her teeth.

They weren’t in their own house, and her usual daytime routine had already been disrupted, so Louis stayed in Rose’s room a little longer than he normally would have.  He let her have a small tea party – only a few stuffies invited and chamomile the drink of choice in deference to the late hour – and read some of the books that Anne had in stock, which were therefore still unfamiliar and novel enough to hold her attention.

He even laid in bed with her for a while, starting out with a cuddle but then being relegated to the far corner of the mattress as she tossed and turned.  It was just as he was about to sneak out of the room, once Rose had been still for at least a solid 30 seconds, that she spoke quietly into the darkness.

“Is daddy okay?”

Louis was startled by the question and nearly tripped over the child-size table in the room.  “Of course, baby, why would you ask that?”

Rose sighed, trying to get her limited vocabulary to articulate the reasoning in her head.  “I think he’s been very sad.  He cries a lot, but I don’t think I’m supposed to know that.  But sometimes I can’t sleep and then I have to go potty and the door is closed but I still hear it.”  Louis’ heart was breaking, both for his husband and his daughter, but he had no idea what to say.  “Is he- is he mad at me?  Did I do something wrong?”

Her voice trembled, holding back tears, and this spurred him into action.  He leapt back over to her bedside, kneeling in front of her and brushing his fingers through her hair.  “No, no of course not.  Of course he’s not mad at you.”

She sniffled a few times, working to accept his answer, before asking, “Is he mad at you?”

Louis wanted to laugh because, well, probably.  “No, love.  Me and daddy, we just… well, we lost something that we loved very much.”  Her brows furrowed together in confusion, and that little pout looked so mature and so much like Harry, and Louis just fell in love with her all over again.  “It would be like if you lost Mr. Pebbles when you were out with Nana today.” 

Her eyes got big and she hugged the stuffed unicorn closer to her chest.  “No wonder he’s sad,” she whispered, and Louis nodded solemnly.  “How do we make it better?”

Oh, if only Louis knew the answer to that question.  “You already make it better, love.  Just having you here to play with and cuddle and kiss all over,” he said, proceeding to pepper her face and arms and tummy with kisses that had her squealing, “makes losing Mr. Pebbles not hurt so much.”

His own voice was starting to catch at the end, but he held himself in check – crying in front of his daughter would probably not do much to quell her fears.  He remained by her side much longer than intended, just watching her fall asleep, the troubles that had only just plagued her mind drifting away.  Their precious baby girl.

When Louis finally ventured back into the hall, he was suddenly nervous.  His and Harry’s little bubble of privacy had been popped wide open, and he wasn’t quite sure whether the tenuous threads they’d stitched back together would hold through the night.

Harry seemed to be having similar thoughts, as he hovered awkwardly at the threshold of the bedroom he had, up until this point, been sleeping in alone.  “Do you, um… you can come to bed.  If you want.”

Louis smiled brightly and reached out a hand for Harry to take.  They walked hand-in-hand to the bed, letting go only long enough for Louis to strip down to his boxers and climb under the covers.  He let Harry be the little spoon, sticking one leg between Harry’s bent knees and wrapping an arm around his waist, hesitating only a moment before letting his hand rest on Harry’s stomach.  Harry’s breath caught at the sensitive touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“I love you,” Louis assured him once again, allowing his body to mold around Harry’s like it had so many times before.  “Promise.”

Christmas morning arrived with too much noise for Louis’ liking – a screaming tea kettle, a squealing four-year-old, an Elvis holiday album blasting on the record player.  It was the best kind of chaos, and he savored the joy evident in his little family.

After having to practically tie Rose down to a chair to get her to wolf down some breakfast, she was finally released to make a mad dash to the Christmas tree while the adults took their time settling down into the cushy furniture.  Before she dug into her stack of presents, though, a very serious expression crossed her face.  She contemplated for a moment, then walked over to stand in front of Harry.  With a last longing glance at Mr. Pebbles, she kissed him and then delicately placed him on a very confused Harry’s lap.  He looked to Louis, who for some reason unbeknownst to him had tears in his eyes, for an explanation as she threw her arms around him for a quick but tight hug before turning back to her stockpile.

“What was that about?” he whispered, glancing down at the grungy toy perched on his knee.

Louis was in awe at the generosity of their daughter – giving up her prized possession, her best friend, to lend whatever support she was able to her grieving father.  “She’s so much like you.” 

Harry still had no idea what he was talking about – he saw so much of Louis in her – but Louis’ mind was clearly elsewhere, so he simply pulled Louis closer to his side and rested his chin on the top of his head as they watched the childish glee with which Rose ripped into her gifts.

Anne offered to put Rose down for her nap, so Harry and Louis decided to wait until then to exchange their gifts for each other.

“Can I go first?” Harry asked tentatively as they sat facing each other on the couch.

Louis reached out and put a hand on his forearm, still relishing the feeling of being able to touch him without him pulling away.  “You didn’t have to get me anything.”  Just having _him_ was more than enough for Louis.

Harry bit his lip and his shoulders shrugged shyly.  “Well, technically I didn’t, like, _get_ you anything.  I don’t actually have it yet.”  Louis’ eyebrows raised in question, and Harry pulled out a small card, the inside of which held a picture of the item he’d secretly texted Anne to order for him the day before.

“Consider me intrigued, Styles,” he said, taking the envelope from Harry’s hands.  The motion had them leaning even closer together, and Harry took the opportunity to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

“Tomlinson-Styles,” Harry corrected, taking Louis’ bottom lip gently between his teeth and massaging it with his tongue.  He moved along Louis’ jaw and down his neck, nuzzling at a spot just below his ear that had him biting back a moan.  “Aren’t you going to open your present?” Harry teased when Louis still hadn’t moved.

“That depends – are you going to keep doing that thing with your tongue?”  In answer, Harry licked a wet line down to his collarbone and began nipping at the skin below; it was sure to leave marks, but unsurprisingly, Louis could not find it in himself to give a damn.  “Your- mom—“ he finally managed to stutter out when Harry was practically on top of him.

Harry let out a little growl – probably the sexiest noise that Louis had ever heard – but pulled away to rest his forehead against Louis’.  “Later, then,” he promised, leaving a kiss behind as he sat back on his heels.

Louis needed a hot minute before the blood flow was released back into the rest of his body and he could think straight again.  He cleared his throat and visibly shook himself out of the fog of arousal.  When Harry smirked at the disorientation he’d left in his wake, Louis slapped the card against his arm.  Harry just chuckled, considering putting the moves on Louis again.

But, they really didn’t have time to accomplish all the things Harry wanted to do to him, so he allowed Louis to open his gift in peace.

“Haz,” he cooed, running his fingers of the image of a beautiful mahogany upright piano.  “You bought a piano?”

Harry bit his lip, suddenly unsure of his purchase.  “I know it’s a… it’s a thing.  But after what happened yesterday… god, I forgot how much I love hearing you play.  You’re amazing.  And that voice?”  Harry clutched a hand dramatically to his chest and Louis blushed.  “And if that right there,” he pointed to the picture in Louis’ hand, “is what brought us back together?  God, I would put one in every room of the house.”

“Harry—“

“I know it’s silly and doesn’t really make sense.  And we don’t really have room for it, but I just thought—“

Louis put his hand over Harry’s lips to halt their movement.  “First of all… thank you.  I love it.”  He felt Harry smile beneath his fingers.  “And second,“  he reached over to the other gift that had been left on the coffee table, “we may actually end up having some new space opening up.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be intrigued.  The box was small, like the size of a box of earrings, and when he removed the lid there was nothing but a silver key inside.  “Um… I’m sure it’s wonderful, but- um, what exactly is this?”  He rather hoped it was something cheesy like the key to Louis’ heart, and not that he’d bought a new house or something.

Louis fiddled with his fingers in his lap.  “Okay, so, like, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.  It’s just, well, I saw the place on my way to work one day – I mean, I had never noticed it before, but then as soon as there was a For Sale sign up it was like a fucking beacon and I had to go in and take a look, and it’s really perfect, Haz.  It’s super old, so it’s got these really unique architectural elements, but then there’s all these modern fixtures inside – very industrial, but still, like, warm somehow?”  Harry was still trying to wrap his mind around what Louis was trying to tell him, even as he continued talking a mile a minute.  “And I know the kitchen isn’t up to par – it’s got the essentials, but not nearly enough ovens for a fully functional bakery.  Especially, you know, once word gets around about the grand opening.  Who knows, maybe you’ll have to expand into the building next door – or even open up another place in the city!  Wouldn’t want to move there – maybe let Gemma in on it?”  Louis only had to think a moment on that before cringing.  “Ehm, on second thought maybe leave the nepotism out of this one.”

“You got me a bakery?” Harry asked, still not quite sure he’d found the actual facts amidst Louis’ ramblings.

“Uh, kinda?  I mean, obviously I didn’t, like, _buy_ buy it.  But I’ve been talking to the owner, and she’s got some other offers, but she’s quite partial to the idea of you moving in there – I think she said you made a cake for her daughter’s quinceanera some years back, that she said was, quote, ‘so good it almost made me forget about the lying bastard that fathered her.’”

“You got me a bakery,” he said, more as a statement this time.

Louis shuffled closer until he was practically in Harry’s lap.  “I don’t- well, maybe this was a right stupid thing to do.  But you always said you wanted to open another storefront someday, and we’ve been holding off because...”  He steeled himself for this, because if they were ever going to get through it they would need to be able to talk about it.  “Because we were planning on having a newborn to take care of, but…”

“But you don’t think we should plan for that anymore,” Harry finished for him, a slight bitterness seeping into his tone.

“No!  I mean, not exactly.  It’s just, well, I don’t think we need to put so much, like, _pressure_ on it.  Like, if and when you ever want to give it another go, we definitely can.  And if it happens, it happens, and if not… then we won’t be putting our lives on hold in the meantime.”

“Is that how you’ve felt the past few years?  That I’ve been holding you back?”

God, why was Louis always so horrible with words?  “Of course not, no!  But… the bakery was your dream once.  You loved it and were passionate about it.  I just… I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life unhappy when there are so many incredible things about our life.”  When Harry still didn’t respond, he closed his eyes and took in a shuddering breath.  “Please tell me that our life is still enough for you,” he whispered.

A moment later, Louis was gathered up in Harry’s arms, and again he wondered how he was always the one that ended up the sobbing mess that needed comforting.

“You have always been enough,” Harry reassured him, rocking them gently back and forth.  “And you gave me a daughter, who is more than enough.”  He leaned back against the arm of the sofa, taking Louis with him so that he was draped across his chest.  Louis kissed him there and Harry gave a playful tug on the hair that his fingers had been carding through.

They laid there in silence for a while, each deep in thought.  “And besides, if you don’t move your baking shit out of the office, I’ll have nowhere to put my new piano,” Louis finally mumbled against Harry’s chest, hoping that enough time had passed to where a joke would be acceptable.

Apparently it had, because Harry laughed and tightened his arms around Louis’ shoulders, giving his bum a playful smack but also placing a sweet kiss on the crown of his head.  “Guess I’ll just have to reopen the bakery then.”


	7. The Vacation

The first couple weeks of the new year were a little rough on everyone.  At first, Harry was reluctant to dive headfirst into his new business venture – it often meant long hours away from home, away from his husband and daughter, as he secured proper start-up funds and developed marketing plans and purchased equipment and interviewed potential employees.  He’d forgotten how much work it had been the first time around, but at least this time he had a brand history and previous relationships to build from rather than having to start completely from scratch.

Louis, too, was having trouble adjusting to their new crazy schedule.  Harry tried to get home before bedtime as often as he could, but most of the time Louis ended up on his own with Rose.  In addition, football season was coming up, which meant his workload was steadily increasing.  Not that he could really complain about such a dream job, but most of it ended up having to be researched and written  after Rose went to bed, and trying to focus into the wee hours of the morning when he was already exhausted made everything take twice as long.

It was beginning to take a toll on him – he was dead on his feet most days and he felt like he might be coming down with something – but Louis didn’t want Harry to feel guilty for something he had basically forced him to pursue, so he did his best to plaster on a smile and pretend like he didn’t feel like absolute shit all the time.

In addition to work, Louis had the charity football match to think about.  He had a group to have a little kick-around with occasionally, but he was going to be going up against some proper players soon and didn’t want to make an ass of himself.  It was a huge honor, but also a big responsibility – not to mention something he had been hoping to do for almost half his life – and so he took it very seriously.  Thus, he added daily conditioning workouts – mostly running and practicing drills and scrimmaging whenever the weather permitted – to his routine. 

As January came to a close, even Harry began to notice Louis’ fatigue.  For the first time that week, he’d managed to get home at a reasonable hour, and walked in on Rose racing around the family room like a tornado – leaving at least as much wreckage in her wake – while Louis was passed out on the couch.

Harry set down the bags of pasta and salad he’d picked up for dinner in the kitchen before swooping in to intercept his daughter’s path of destruction.  “Whoa there, crazy girl,” he said, scooping her up mid-dash.  “What’s got you all hyped up?”

She was still panting in his arms, but her eyes were wide and her legs kicked as if she were still racing around on the ground.  “Papa fell asleep while we were watching a movie and I got hungry and he ate all the popcorn and uncle Niall left a bag of biscuits yesterday and papa didn’t think I saw where he put them but I did and—“

“Alright, alright, I get it.”  So it was a sugar rush.  “But you know you’re not supposed to have treats before dinner.”  Her kicking had stopped and she turned away from his admonishing gaze, burying her face in his chest, and he sighed.  “But, I guess I can’t blame you for feeding yourself when papa wasn’t up for the task.”  He glanced a little worriedly over at Louis, surprised that he was still asleep through all of the commotion.  “Although I’m pretty sure there was some fruit and cheese sticks in the fridge, my girl.”  She popped her head out of its hiding place, surely ready with some illogical explanation as to why those options were not acceptable, when Harry continued – there was nothing to be done about it now anyway.  “But, now I think it’s about time you had a proper meal, yeah?”

She leaped out of his arms, more than willing to help ready the table for dinner in exchange for not being reprimanded about her earlier choice of snack.

Louis woke up a couple times during dinner and playtime, long enough to mumble a half-conscious question or two, but each time Harry would reassure him that he was handling everything and coax him back to sleep.  It didn’t take much convincing, and Harry continued to let him sleep all through Rose’s bedtime routine – it had been a while since he’d been there to put her down anyway, and he relished the feeling of her small arms wrapped around him as she drifted off to sleep. 

When he padded back downstairs, Louis had barely even changed positions, and now that Harry could get a good look at him, he was even more concerned.  There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked thinner, the sharp lines of his cheekbones even more prominent than usual.  He reached out to brush the hair out of his eyes and Louis nuzzled into his touch with a contented sigh.

They hadn’t had much time – or energy – to be intimate with each other since their holiday at his mum’s, and though Harry was happy to have a new project to occupy his attention, he quite missed the closeness they’d achieved there.

He began pressing gentle kisses to Louis’ forehead, tracing a line around his cheek and down his jaw.  Louis stirred, releasing a sound that might have been a sleepy moan, as Harry worked his way down.  Louis’ inconvenient choice of shirt didn’t allow him access to the skin underneath, so Harry put in extra effort in order to stimulate him through the fabric.  He found Louis’ nipples through the material and teased them with his tongue through the thin material.  Louis arched up and tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair with a gasp, finally opening his eyes.

Harry smiled victoriously, and continued his tantalizing trail down Louis’ chest and stomach; now at the bottom of the offending shirt, he lifted up the hem and sucked bruises into the golden skin, following the small line of dark hair beneath Louis’ bellybutton and then playfully tugging at the elastic band of his sweatpants with his teeth.

As Harry’s cheek grazed Louis’ rapidly hardening cock, he struggled to get a grip on what the hell was happening.  He attempted to speak – to ask where he was, what time it was, where Rose was… anything – but it all came out as a series of half-finished words, and ceased completely once his trousers had been pushed down to his ankles. 

He must have missed a few goings-on that evening, but surely Harry wouldn’t be doing all this if anything was amiss, right?

And the more primal part of his brain wouldn’t care if the damn house was burning down once Harry took him fully in his mouth.  Maybe it was the surprise of being awakened in such a way, maybe it was that he was still getting readjusted to being intimate with Harry again especially in their own house, or maybe it was just Harry’s tongue and fingers and god even the guttural sounds coming from his throat, but it wasn’t long before Louis was tapping Harry’s shoulder, an indication that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Louis thought that Harry would pull off then, maybe continue upstairs where the mess would be easier to clean up.  But instead, he looked up into Louis’ ravaged face and winked before plunging down until Louis was hitting the back of his throat.  It was enough to make him lose it right then and there, and even after the initial gag, Harry held steady in his position to swallow and lick up every taste of his husband that remained.

So.  Clean up wouldn’t be a problem after all.

“Missed you,” Harry said simply, licking his lips and marking a path back up Louis’ panting body with his hands.

When Louis recovered enough to regain the power of speech, he peered down at Harry and asked, “Do I get to show you how much I missed you too?”

With a low growl, Harry snaked his arms around Louis’ torso and brought them both to their feet.  What would have been a hasty trip up to the bedroom was halted several times as Harry trapped Louis against the wall, pressing their bodies together and creating an unbearably delightful friction that elicited a high-pitched whine from Louis.  And again when Louis hopped into Harry’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist and grinding his hips into his pelvis as their kisses turned sloppy and frantic.

It was at that point that Harry could wait no longer, and booked it – Louis’ feet still very much off the floor – to their suite and snapped the door shut.

After a few quick but vigorous rounds of lovemaking, the stress and exhaustion of the past few weeks finally caught up with them and they collapsed onto each other in a sweaty, gasping heap.  Louis had already slept most of the evening, but the added physical activity had managed to wear him out once again.  He thought surely Harry would be at least as tired, but apparently his mind had been much more active than Louis’ as he spoke his thoughts into the quiet room.

“I think we should go on holiday.”

Louis snorted.  “We just came back from holiday.”  Although it certainly felt like a lifetime ago since either of them had had time to stop and enjoy themselves.

“Visiting my mum doesn’t count.  I mean like a proper vacation.  Somewhere with, like, sun and beaches and those little coconut drinks with the umbrellas in them.”

Louis wrinkled his nose – Harry always did like those fancy fruity cocktails, whereas Louis would have been fine sticking with cheap beer.  “We’re both a little busy, love,” he pointed out, placing a kiss to Harry’s bare chest and drawing his fingers up and down his ribs.

Harry huffed at that – he knew they were busy; that was exactly why he wanted to do this.  There was something he wanted to talk to Louis about, and he didn’t particularly want to do it in the five minutes per day they had been spending together in moments of passing.  “It’s not like I’m on a deadline – it’s my business, I can open it whenever the fuck I want.”

Louis wanted to point out that while technically that was true, the longer they kept the doors closed the longer they’d be losing money on the place.  Not to mention the fact that while Harry’s timeline might be flexible, Louis was still very much on a deadline and being gone for a week or two would throw quite a wrench into his schedule.  Despite this, he was still desperate to make Harry happy, and if this was what he wanted, he’d find a way to make it work.  Plus, he could totally count this toward both Harry’s birthday and Valentine’s Day – neither of which he’d had the time or energy to consider up to this point.

“Where were you thinking of going?” he asked with an exhausted sigh, snuggling against Harry’s body and drifting off to sleep in the middle of whatever Harry had planned.

As much as Harry wanted to whisk off to a tropical island resort, it was unfortunately winter in the UK and would cost more than they could afford to all travel halfway across the world.  Once over his disappointment, though, it took a mere two weeks to plan out a week-long trip to the Greek isles.

They decided to take Rose with them – it would be her first real trip outside the country, and honestly, they couldn’t quite bring themselves to be away from her for a full seven days.

Louis was regretting it, though, as the unpleasant traveling part of the journey began.  They had to get up early, and after having stayed up most of the night finishing an extra week’s worth of work before they left, Louis woke up with a pounding headache.  Then the ride to the airport was bumpy and gave him motion sickness and Rose would not stop talking – he was glad she was excited, but it hurt his head to try and concentrate on her strings of sometimes incoherent sentences.

To add to his misery, their flight was delayed, which meant Rose got bored, which meant they ended up chasing her around the terminal while she ran away with glee. 

The actual plane ride was even worse, as Rose began sobbing due to the pressure of her ears popping and also being confined to her seat.  Air travel was supposed to be smooth, but the small space and stuffy air and a bit of extra turbulence brought Louis’ nausea back with a vengeance.

Luckily he was in an aisle seat and they were high enough in the air that he wouldn’t be told off by one of the flight attendants for walking about the cabin, so Louis was able to surge forward to the lavatory in time to empty the bacon, egg, and cheese bagel he’d had for breakfast from the airport café into the toilet.  There wasn’t much room in there, and after he heaved a second time, he had to spend several minutes cleaning up the mess he’d made around the small space.

He leaned up against the counter trying to take deep, centering breaths when a knock at the door came.  He’d been in there quite some time by that point, and offered a quiet apology to the annoyed traveler waiting on the other side as he shuffled past.

“Alright?” Harry asked quietly when Louis returned to his seat.

Louis slunk down and nodded, rolling his head to the side to see Rose asleep in Harry’s lap.  Harry reached out to grab his hand, and Louis joined her in sleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

Once they had settled into the hotel – which consisted of an outcropping of beachside bungalows, so they had their own two bedroom hut overlooking the water – Harry could not for the life of him get Louis to rouse from the bed he’d immediately collapsed into.  But, jet lag had always hit him harder than it had Harry and he decided to let him have a few hours of peace and quiet.

“Come on, darling, let’s get in some sandcastles and swimming before time for dinner, yeah?”

The beach was literally right outside their door, so he wouldn’t be too far away from Louis.  Plus, Rose was delighted to have some one-on-one time with Harry – he had been home with her almost constantly for her entire life, so the last six weeks or so that he’d been gone so much had been quite an adjustment for her as well.

When Louis finally awoke, it was to Harry’s lips on his neck, his jaw, his mouth.  He smelled like sunshine and salt, and Louis wanted to see if he tasted the same.  He’d just wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck, pulling himself up to a semi-seated position, when the rapid thump of little feet on wooden floors approached their door.

“Ew!  Daddy, papa, no.”  Rose entered their room and tugged on Harry’s sleeve until he pulled away from Louis and looked at her.  “Dinner,” she explained with a pout.

Harry chuckled and looked back at Louis’ confused expression.  “I did promise our hungry little flower that I would take her to dinner soon.”  He then leaned down so that he was close enough that only Louis could hear.  “Dessert, however, will be on you later.  Literally.”

Louis swore if his daughter was not directly in his line of sight he would have had his way with Harry right then and there.  He was suddenly feeling much more alert, and Harry laughed when he got dressed in all of 30 seconds and practically dragged the two of them out the door.

For the sake of convenience, they simply went up the path and to the hotel restaurant.  They ordered Rose some french fries and chicken tenders from the kids menu, and the two local fresh catches of the day for themselves.  Conversation was easy, and after a few minutes of unexcitedly picking at her meal, Rose got to enjoy the massive fish tanks decorating the room, one of which was located directly across from their table so they could keep an eye on her.

They chatted about the moments they’d missed in the other’s life as of late – Harry about finishing the interior renovations of the old building and Louis about getting his timed mile down to just under six minutes.  Harry had found a new way of baking croissants that had the fickle pastry turning out correctly much more often and Louis had just written a piece that he was pretty sure got one of thei northern football coaches fired.

There were more things they wanted to say, simmering under the surface of the lighthearted exchange, but it could wait until they were alone.

When Harry finally emerged from putting their daughter down for bed, Louis was fully prepared to be attacked, to be furiously and desperately made love to as had been the trend in the few moments they could spare for each other at home. 

But they were not at home.

They had time.

Harry walked into the room slowly, but his look was neither predatory nor seductive; it was more wary and maybe a little shy, and prompted Louis to ask, “What’s wrong?”

Harry shook his head.  “Nothing.  It’s- nothing’s wrong.  I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Louis sat up and leaned against the headboard, beckoning Harry to join him on the bed.  He crawled over and sat back, nestling himself between Louis’ open legs and resting his back against Louis’ chest.  “Tell me, love,” Louis coaxed, kissing the top of Harry’s head and soothing his hand up and down the front of Harry’s torso.  Harry waited until Louis’ hand reached his stomach, then grabbed onto it, holding it there.  “Haz?”

“I want- I think… well, I think I’m ready.  To start, um, trying.  Again.”  He had never stopped wanting another child, but shame and fear had been holding him back.  Maybe it was foolish – he was just starting a business, after all – but it might take another two years to get pregnant again, and if he started looking for excuses to put it off he was sure to always find them.  “If, you know, if you want to, um, also,” he added when Louis still hadn’t spoken.

Well, to say Louis was surprised was the understatement of the century.  He wasn’t sure when or how Harry had reached this conclusion, but he really hoped it wasn’t because he felt like he had something to prove.  Louis squeezed both his arms tightly around Harry and rested his chin on his shoulder.  “Are you sure?  I mean, if you’re not ready—“

Harry sighed.  “I don’t know that I’ll ever be, like, really ready.  But… I don’t wanna be so afraid of losing something that I’m not gonna try and have it in the first place, you know?”  He turned slightly to press his lips to Louis’ temple.  “I tried that once and it nearly killed me.”

“Me too.”  Louis shuddered to think how different their lives would have been if either of them had had just a little less courage all those years ago.

“So if you don’t mind,” Harry began again, spinning and twisting around so quickly that he somehow managed to flip himself onto his back and face Louis on top of him, “I’d very much like you to knock me up, please.”

Harry was smiling sweetly and it just took Louis’ breath away.  Harry always had that effect on him, but now there was a hint of color on his cheeks – maybe from the sun, but also maybe from a blush of innocence – and his cute little bunny teeth were biting into his bottom lip and there were happy crinkles in the corners of his eyes and god, he just loved everything about this man.

Louis kissed his lips, his hands holding Harry still while his mouth worked its way down his neck and chest.  When he got to his stomach, he took his time punctuating each press of his lips with words of affirmation and affection.  “You’re so beautiful.”  Kiss.  “So kind.”  Another kiss.  “So strong.”  He paused to look Harry directly in the eyes as he said, “I love you, Harry Tomlinson-Styles, and every inch of you will always be perfect to me, no matter what happens.”  A single tear slipped from the corner of Harry’s eye, but Louis kissed it away before he even realized it was there.  “Only happy times, love,” Louis reminded him, smiling softly before claiming his lips once again.

Despite Louis’ tender care and constant reassurances, it was still an emotional climax for both of them that left them spent and shaking in each others’ arms.  Harry insisted that they could go again, but Louis just shushed him – they had all week and they were there to enjoy themselves; there was no need to rush.

It was still dark outside when Louis was awakened by the sounds of coughing coming from the other side of their bathroom door.  “Haz?” he called lazily, shuffling across the room and nudging the panel open with his foot.  Harry was on his knees in front of the toilet hacking up the remains of their dinner.  “Aw, Harry.”  Louis sat down next to him and rubbed a hand up and down his back as he wiped the moisture that had involuntarily sprung to Harry’s eyes from the violent expulsion.

“Nggh,” Harry groaned, crossing his arms over the bowl and resting his head on them as he slumped down.

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure morning sickness doesn’t happen quite that quickly.”

Louis chuckled at his own wittiness, but Harry felt like death and was having none of it.  “Laugh while you can, Tomlinson – as I recall, you helped yourself to a fair bit of my sea bass tonight.  I reckon it won’t be long before you’re fighting me for this very spot.”

“Shit,” Louis mumbled, and Harry only felt slightly guilty for the brief flash of panic and dread that crossed his face.

Sure enough, less than an hour later Louis was heaving his expensive dinner – or, rather, the other half of Harry’s dinner – into the bathtub (Harry had refused to move from his post in front of the toilet, and Louis didn’t want to wake Rose up  by using the other bathroom).  He glared down at the chunks of white mixed in the bile that had come up his throat – Louis had eaten cheap, sketchy pub food almost every day of his early twenties and had never gotten food poisoning; and now that he was a cultured adult that spent more than 30 quid on fresh caught, locally sourced shit, he was turning his guts out in the bathroom of his overly priced hotel.

Irony’s a bitch.

Once Rose woke up – parenting duty never took sick days – they took turns looking after her.  She even seemed to sense how poorly they were feeling and decided to take it easy on them, spending most of the day occupying herself with card games and too much tv while either Louis or Harry groaned from their position on the couch, the other echoing from the bathroom.

By the end of the day, Harry at least was feeling much better.  Though he couldn’t stomach the idea of eating anything quite yet, he offered to take Rose out to eat… anywhere other than the hotel restaurant.  It was then that he discovered they weren’t the only ones afflicted by the staff’s poor culinary safety practices, and the manager offered a slight discount for their stay in exchange for, well, not completely bashing their name in online reviews.

By the end of the second day, Louis’ symptoms appeared to have calmed somewhat – as in he could keep his eyes open without getting dizzy and stand up without having to immediately hunch back over.  He still felt nauseous constantly, and the fatigue of illness ached heavily in his bones, but this was their vacation and he did his best to shake off his malaise and enjoy the few days they had left.

Louis chugged water like it was his job, but could still barely keep any food in his stomach without it coming right back up again.  Eventually he just stopped trying, subsisting on some salted crackers he’d purchased at a nearby convenience store.  At least they would save a little money on the food tab when this was all said and done.

And Harry – well, Harry was so excited about everything, from snorkeling in the ocean to touring the ancient ruins to sitting on the beach and watching the sunset, Louis could not deny him anything.  So he moved a little slower, spoke a little quieter, and saved up enough energy during the day to give Harry the pleasure he requested and deserved in the evenings.

Louis had spent so much time and energy fighting and repressing his body’s desperate plea for rest that the journey home was almost unbearable.  By the time they arrived home, he was still exhausted and sick to his stomach and just so incredibly uncomfortable that he wanted to cry.

Harry was already on the phone with someone he was planning to meet with later that day, leaving Louis to carry the bags in from the car and begin the work of putting lunch together.  The questionable meat still in the fridge from before they left very nearly made him gag, so he opted for simplicity – crisps and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  He also put a few carrots and apple slices on the plates for good measure, but knew full well that they would go untouched on everyone’s but Harry’s.

As soon as Harry hung up, he snagged a few of the veggies directly from the bag and opened the fridge to retrieve one of his superfood smoothies that he kept on hand for when he was on the go and didn’t have time to eat a full meal.

“Going out, then?” Louis asked, eyeing the bottle of green liquid in his hand.

Harry popped the cap open and took a swig.  “Sorry, love.  I know we just got back, but—“

Louis waved him off.  “I know, I know.  You’ve got a business to run… eventually,” he added with a playful smirk.  Just then, the smell of Harry’s unholy concoction reached his nose and he had to turn his whole body away from the affront.

“You alright?” he asked, starting to take a step forward but held back by the hand Louis shot out, indicating that he should stay put.

It took every ounce of willpower for Louis not to snap in that moment.  He was worn down and stressed out and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed for the next year or so.  But.  For the first time in a long time, Harry was happy and hopeful for the future, and Louis would do absolutely anything to keep it that way.

So he bit back whatever snarky reply was on his lips, taking a deep breath and managing a tight smile before turning back to his husband.  “Fine.  Just peachy.”

Harry’s brows furrowed at the odd tone and clipped phrases, but then his phone chimed and he rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “Alright, I’m going,” he muttered to the person on the other end of the text.  “Call me if you need anything,” he said to Louis, kissing him on the cheek before scooping Rose up in a hug on his way back out the door.

As soon as Harry was gone, Louis spun around and hurled right into the kitchen sink.

This was going to be a long day.


	8. The Curveball

Harry immediately went back to full time – overtime, really – bakery duties, and Louis was left to make up the time he’d lost while they were away.  He continued single-handedly watching their daughter and as football season ramped up, the number of articles required for the online portion of their magazine had now increased to almost daily publications.

Still, he managed to squeeze in the daily conditioning plan he’d created for himself – which usually included him running to be sick in the trashcan once or twice, but he took that as a sign that he was just training hard and putting in the maximum amount of effort.  Plus, it probably didn’t help that he didn’t have time to prepare healthy meals for himself and ended up eating like a university student most of the time, which had caused him to actually put on a few pounds despite the workouts.

It was early March, about two weeks after they’d gotten back from Greece, when Louis stood in front of his mirror scowling at his ragged appearance.  He didn’t like to think himself a vain person, but Harry always managed to look spectacular – especially lately, he had this happy glow about him – which left Louis feeling like a sick, bloated wisp of a man next to him.

He blamed Harry for his particularly dreadful appearance this day.

Louis was supposed to have the whole day to himself, as Harry had promised not to schedule any construction or plan any meetings for Saturday.  So Louis continued running his achy, sleep-deprived body to its absolute limit during the week because he just had to make it to the weekend.  Because then he could rest.  Because then he could finally allow his body recover from whatever unending viral hell was ravaging it.

Of course, he should have known it was too good to be true.

His first clue should have been when Harry got a text in middle of the night – alright, so it was barely 10pm, but Louis was already passed out on the bed – and left the room long enough for Louis to miss when he reappeared.  His second clue should have been when Harry once again retreated before the sun was up and came back with a tray of blueberry muffins and orange juice.

But what really tipped Louis off that Harry was up to something was waking up with a mouth around his cock.

“Haz,” Louis moaned, half in pleasure half in distress – as much as he appreciated the gesture, especially with as little time as they got to spend with each other lately, he was so not in the mood for this at the moment.  Harry hummed in response, but the sensation that usually felt so good instead elicited a much less pleasant churning in his belly.  “Harry, stop,” he insisted, tapping furiously on the top of Harry’s head until he pulled away.

Harry sat back on his heels and looked down at the hands he had clasped in his lap.  “I, ehm, I guess this wasn’t the most subtle way to break the news.”  He glanced sheepishly at the plate of food then back up at Louis through his long eyelashes.

Louis’ heart sped up at that and he sat up a little too quickly.  The room spun for a moment and he thought it fortuitous that there was a glass of juice by his bed.  “News?” he asked, reaching a shaky hand to take a sip of the liquid.  It did little to calm his nerves.  “What news?”  When Harry still didn’t answer, he crawled over on his knees until he was directly in front of him and intertwined their fingers.  “Haz, are you pregnant?”  It was the first thing that came to mind, and he really should have known better than to just blurt out a question like that, but he wasn’t exactly in his right mind at that time of morning.

Harry’s downcast eyes snapped up to Louis’ and widened with panic.  “What?  No, why—shit, Lou, no.  Fuck, I didn’t… that’s not what I—“

“Oh.”  Well, now Louis felt like a horrible person.  “Sorry, love.  I just assumed there was, you know, something.  But I guess someone as generous as you doesn’t need an excuse to treat their husband, yeah?”  He scooted back and settled under the covers, the adrenaline seemingly out of his system as quickly as it had come and leaving him exhausted again.

Louis had already closed his eyes, so he missed the guilty expression that crossed Harry’s face.  “Actually… well, there is kind of a reason.”  Louis pried one eye open in suspicion, but wished he hadn’t – he knew what that look meant.  “It’s just… the contractor called and they overbooked for next week and wouldn’t be able to get the drywall in before the appliances needed to be installed.  But if they work all weekend, which he offered to do since it was his mistake in the first place, they’d have it done ahead of schedule even, but I’d need to be there – I mean, last time there was almost a wall put up in the wrong end of the store – and I know I said I’d be here, but this would push opening out at least another month, and—“

As Harry rambled on about all the reasons – very good, rational, and justifiable reasons – all Louis wanted to do was scream into his pillow.  One day.  He just needed _one day_ and apparently even that was too much to ask. 

“It’s fine, Harry,” Louis finally interrupted him with a sigh, wiggling deeper into the folds of the comforter.  “Go take care of business.”

“That was a terrible pun, even for you.”  Without opening his eyes Louis flipped him off, and Harry leaned down to nuzzle into his neck affectionately.  “Thank you.”  With a quick kiss to the cheek and a warm glance back at his husband’s sprawling form, Harry was off once again.

Louis thought he’d be able to sleep for a few more hours, but Harry’s departure had somehow awakened Rose – he suspected that a clumsy Harry trying to sneak into her room for a goodbye hug was to blame.  But, with the weekday construction moved to now, maybe Louis would get the whole rest of the week off with Harry.

He took a few calming breaths – well, calm on the outside, as he couldn’t stop his teeth from grinding together – as Rose skipped into the room and threw open the curtains to let in the sun, which was just enough over the horizon to blast through the clear glass and annoy the hell out of him.

Two more days.  Just two more days.  He could do this.

After consuming Harry’s apology breakfast and watching a cartoon or two, Louis determined that if he was going to make it through this weekend, he needed a change of scenery.  So he texted Niall.

_Thinking of taking Rosie to the park – care to join us for a little scrimmage?_

Niall was the second best player they had at the magazine – after Louis, of course – and so provided the best competition against which to practice and improve his skills.  The tournament was only a few weeks away, after all, and he seemed to be adopting a bit of Harry’s clumsiness as of late.

_Thought you were having a ‘mental health day’._

Louis almost whined at that before replying.  _Something came up at the bakery.  Just me and the kiddo again._

_Well, you could definitely use the practice – pretty sure Rosie could take you at the minute._

Louis wanted to be indignant – mostly because it was probably true – but it wasn’t his fault, damnit!  Instead of dignifying Niall’s goading with a response, he simply gave him an hour to get ready and prepare for a well-deserved ass kicking.

As awful as it was trying to get them both out of the house, Louis was thankful for the fresh air – it was crisp and refreshing and was almost enough to convince his protesting body that it was invigorated.

They easily spotted Niall – already making friends with some other lads that were kicking the ball around.  “Oi, we might actually get to play with a full team today,” he called, beckoning them over.

The idea of having to sprint across the field against players that were clearly younger and better rested was not the most appealing to Louis, but luckily he had the perfect excuse.  “Can’t just leave the little miss out here by herself while I go galavanting around the field now, can I?”  He looked around, but Rose had already spotted their neighbor, Kyra, and her mom sitting on the bleachers with their little terrier. 

“Puppy!”  She let out a little squeal and pointed excitedly toward her friend and the tiny animal with a pleading question in her eyes. 

Louis sighed – how could he say no to that face?   “Alright, go on then.  But don’t go wandering off without me, yeah?”  He didn’t have to look at Niall to sense the smug look on his face.  “Can we at least warm up first?”

Louis set a slow pace for their laps around the field, using up as much time as possible in the hopes that their would-be impromptu teammates would get tired of waiting on them.  He distracted Niall with the major news headlines in his life, including such juicy tidbits as the plan for the bakery to open its doors in another month or so and their decision to try to conceive again.

“That’s great, mate.  Love to have another little niece or nephew to spoil.”

“You’ve always got Theo,” Louis said, panting and huffing a lot more than Niall seemed to be at their easy jog.

“Eh, little twat thinks he’s too cool for uncle Niall at the moment – thinks sports are so overrated and that musicians are much more in.”

Louis waggled his eyebrows.  “He’s not wrong – can’t say Harry’s minded the improvement in dexterity ever since we made room for the piano.”

“Ew, gross – did not need to know that.”  Niall knocked his shoulder into Louis playfully, pushing him off the edge of the field where the ground took a slight downward slope. 

Normally, Louis would have had enough coordination to right himself with no problem.  But everything in his body had felt off-balance for weeks now, and he wasn’t able to recover.  He tumbled over and rolled onto his sides a couple times before coming to a stop.

“Shit, Lou – sorry!”  Niall rushed over, kneeling beside Louis and offering his hand.

“What the hell, Niall!”  Louis glared down at the grass stains on his clothes and then up at Niall’s sullen expression.

“Sorry – didn’t mean to bowl you over like that.  Never seen you go down that easy, I just—“

Louis waved off his help and got his own damn self to his feet.  He immediately regretted his decision when his blood pressure flip-flopped and the world started to go in and out of focus.  “Shit,” he cursed, stumbling around blindly for a few seconds before a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck, Lou, you don’t look so good.”  Niall examined the man whose weight he was almost entirely supporting – Louis was pale and sweaty and breathing quite hard.  Either he _really_ didn’t want to play a full game today – and was a much better actor than any of his friends gave him credit for – or something was seriously wrong with him.  “Let’s go sit down, yeah?”

Louis wanted to shrug him off, to snap that he was fine, or would have been if Niall hadn’t been such an ass in the first place.  But the truth was… well, he wasn’t fine.  “I’m fine,” he insisted anyway once Niall had deposited him on a bench on the opposite side of the field from where Rose and her friend were playing and handed him a bottle of water.

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, I’ve got a damn persistent virus from hell, but I’m not, like, dying or anything.”

“What do you mean?  What virus?”

To Niall’s credit, in hearing that Louis might have some drug-resistant mutant supervirus, he sat down right beside him rather than putting as much distance between them as possible.

“I _mean_ , I’ve felt like shit for ages.  It hasn’t really gotten any worse, but it’s sure as hell not any better either.  It’s just… _there_ , and it’s fucking annoying.  But I’ll live.”

“What’s been going on – tell me exactly.”

Niall had been Louis’ training partner since he found out about the charity tournament, and he really didn’t want to be sidelined because of one little incident.  He needed to be putting in _more_ work, not less.  So, he downplayed his symptoms as much as he could without outright lying.  “I mean, I’m tired a lot I guess.  But work is crazy right now – you know how it is – and with Harry gone so much…”  Niall gave him the side-eye – he knew it had to be more than just that.  “And, well, Harry and I both got food poisoning in Greece.  Mine just… well, it never seemed to quite go away.”

Niall’s brows furrowed.  “Pretty sure that’s not how food poisoning works.”

Louis threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.  “Well apparently that’s how it works in my body because I can’t stop throwing up and everything hurts and I’m just… I’m fucking miserable at the moment.  Physically, anyway,” he amended at Niall’s shocked expression.  Louis sighed.  “I just… I was supposed to have today to lay in bed and watch shit tv and take every pill we had in the medicine cabinet.  But now Harry’s gone, _again_ , and… and I—”  He took a shuddering breath and—fuck, why was he on the verge of tears?

This was all so much harder than Louis thought it was going to be.  He felt like he was losing Harry all over again, only this time it was to something Harry loved, something he wasn’t sure he should even be trying to pull Harry back from.  He felt guilty for even having the thought.  But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on with the way things were now.

He hadn’t even realized Niall’s arms were around him until his soft words were whispered right next to his ear.  “How’s about me and the fiancé take your girl for the night?  You can work or sleep or jack off or whatever it is you need to do so that when we drop her back off tomorrow night you’ll be as good as new.  I’ll even have Liam drop off dinner round yours when he goes out to pick up ours – that man would go to six different places if I asked him, the smitten fool, so whatever you want, it’s yours,” he said with a wink.

Louis no longer attempted to hold in check the moisture stinging behind his eyes.  He felt like a horrible person for so being so relieved to pawn his daughter off on another, but god if his body didn’t feel worse than his conscience.  Overwhelmed, he buried his face into Niall’s neck and mumbled a stuttering, “Thank you,” into his skin.

Niall cackled, mussed up Louis’ hair, and shrugged against his cheek.  “It’s just dinner.”

As soon as Louis made it home – blissfully alone – he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed until… well, preferably until his daughter returned the next evening.  But, the responsible part of his brain reminded him that he still had two articles to finish by Wednesday, and if he could focus, maybe he could even get ahead and not have to work again _next_ weekend.

The problem was that his stupid brain – the very same one that had convinced him that doing work in this rare moment of free time was a good idea – went all fuzzy as soon as he sat down at the desk.  It was as if staring at the blank screen was making him even more tired – something he didn’t even realize was possible – and it wasn’t long before he was slumped over the keyboard.

Liam rarely knocked anymore, especially when his presence was expected, and rolled his eyes when he walked in to find his best friend passed out at the computer.  He made an unnecessary amount of noise in closing the front door, hanging up his coat, and setting the food down on the table, but when Louis still didn’t stir he became concerned – having spent the last few years with a small child in the house, any unexpected sounds should be enough to wake and panic even exhausted parents.

“Louis?  Lou?” he said, shaking his shoulder insistently until he received a mumbled groan in response.

“Hmm?  Wassit—?”

“Dinner’s here.”  Liam waited until Louis slowly picked up his head, smacking his lips together and wiping at their corners to remove the small amount of drool that had collected there.  “I can leave it in the fridge if you want to keep, um… working.”

Louis squinted at his screen – there was nothing but about 300 lines of ‘a’s typed across the screen by an errant body part.  “No, no.  M’fine,” Louis insisted around a yawn.  He was actually quite hungry – it seemed ages since he’d been able to have a proper meal.  “Starved, really.”

It took Louis twice as long as usual to get to the kitchen, and once he was there he collapsed onto one of the barstools at the counter.  “Mind if I join you?” Liam asked, quite afraid that, left unattended, Louis may very well drown in his wonton soup.

“I’d really like that, actually.”  Louis at least got to see Niall at work and on the field, but he and Liam had barely been in the same room since the Christmas party.

It almost felt like old times as Liam pulled out the boxes of Chinese takeaway and retrieved two plates from the cabinet by the sink.  He spooned some orange chicken and white rice onto his plate and pulled apart his chopsticks.  Louis forewent the dish and shoveled some beef lo mein directly into his mouth from the box.

Liam watched his best friend carefully, concerned after what Niall had told him about their interaction that afternoon.  “How are you feeling?” he asked not-so-subtly.

“M’alright.  How’s the wedding planning going?” Louis said, changing the subject with nearly the same amount of tact.

Liam’s eyes lit up – if there was one thing that could get Liam going, it was planning and organizing.  He was basically Monica from Friends.  “Perfect!  God, it was not easy finding a place that could fit that many people.  Honestly, I don’t know how Niall’s guest list can possibly be that long – I don’t think I even _know_ that many people.”

Louis chuckled – yeah, that sounded like Niall.  “Yeah, I’d say you’re a bit lacking in the size department… you know, when it comes to friends.”  Liam narrowed his eyes and muttered a few obscenities.  “But what you lack in quantity, you more than make up for in quality,” he finished clapping Liam on the shoulder with a satisfied grin.  He fully expected retaliation for the dig, but was surprised when Liam’s tone turned serious.

“Speaking of which… the wedding’s in a few months.  And I know you’ve already got a lot going on right now, but you really are my best mate and you know I’ve only got sisters and god help me if I ever had to spend a significant time around any of their partners and you’re the reason Niall and I met in the first place and…”  Liam took a breath and tried to slow the words that had been rapidly spilling out of his mouth – this was important.  “I want you by my side up there, Lou.  I want… will you be my best man?”

Alright, so this probably shouldn’t have been a surprise – Liam would have had the same honor if he and Harry had any semblance of a normal ceremony.  But still, something about the sincerity and love and almost timidity with which he asked the question… well, it managed to summon the tears that always seemed to be lingering just below the surface nowadays.  So, Louis did what he does best when having to confront intense emotions – he made a joke.

“Hmm, when was the wedding again?  Not sure I can do it – might actually have something scheduled already for that day.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed and a playful smirk formed on his lips.  “You have a four-year-old; you don’t have things on your schedule anymore.”  Louis scoffed indignantly, but didn’t deny the claim.  “And I can still withdraw the offer if you insist on being a petulant knob.”

Louis opened his mouth to protest, but conceded when he saw the smug challenge in Liam’s eyes.  “You’re right,” he admitted, allowing Liam his victory for only a moment before countering with his own teasing.  “I can’t be both yours and Niall’s best man anyway.  And he’s the fun one, so his stag party is going to be so much better anyway.”  He swiped his phone from his pocket and opened a new message.  “I’ll just text him right now and let him know I’m available.”

“Louis William Tomlinson!”

“It’s Tomlinson-Styles!” Louis cackled, lunging off the chair and away from Liam as he attempted to grab the phone.

They chased each other around the counter twice before Louis broke away and made a mad dash for the living room, but Liam pounced and had him pinned on the couch before he could get any further.

“Careful,” Louis panted, the short sprint causing him to be out of breath.  “Niall will get jealous.”  It was easy for Liam to ignore the threat – they both knew he wouldn’t.  Niall was the most laid back and trusting person they knew.  He could stumble upon them naked in bed together and still wouldn’t think the worst of them.  “Get off, you’re crushing me!”

Liam just pressed into him further and practically growled, “Say you’ll be my best man.”

“Get off,” Louis warned again, more serious this time.  Some combination of the Chinese food and burst of physical activity and Liam’s weight on his torso was making him nauseous.  “Now, Li.  Fuck,” he said clapping a hand to his mouth and trying to swallow back the bile that was threatening to come up.

Liam must have noticed the change in his tone and immediately removed himself from the couch.  Louis ran to the bathroom and didn’t even bother closing the door before dropping to his knees and heaving into the toilet.

By the time he was done – having exhumed food from such depths within his body that he swore he’d seen some of Christmas dinner come up – he was sweaty and exhausted, and it was all he could do to tip backward onto his butt and lean against the wall.  Liam was ready with a glass of water, which Louis accepted.  He sipped at it gingerly until he was reasonably certain that it wouldn’t come back up, and then took a few replenishing gulps.

“Well.  That was disgusting.”

“I thought you were ‘alright’,” Liam mumbled.  It went unsaid, but he didn’t exactly appreciate being exposed to whatever germs had induced such a violent response.

Louis waved his hand dismissively.  “M’not sick.”  Liam raised a skeptical eyebrow.  “Well, no more than I have been for the last few weeks or so,” he amended, continuing to grumble about all the ways his body had been failing him lately.

Just then, a dangerous thought occurred to Liam.   “Um, Lou?”  Louis’ stream of consciousness ceased and his eyes snapped to Liam, as if just remembering he was there.  “These last few months when you and Harry were… together, were you still… like, was he… or were you…?”

Louis cocked his head, unsure exactly what question was buried in those half-finished thoughts.  “Out with it already, Li.”

Liam huffed in frustration as the appropriate words failed him; he really, really didn’t want to just come out and ask his best friend whether he’d bottomed recently.  “You know why Niall and I picked the date for the wedding that we did?  It was the day we first met.”

Louis was very quickly running out of patience and stamina for this conversation.  “Well that’s downright adorable, Li, but what does that have to do with me and Harry?”

“Really?  You don’t remember _anything_ else significant happening on that date?”  Like… maybe the date printed on Louis’ first sonogram picture of Rose, which was currently still sitting in a frame in her room.

Finally, Louis was beginning to understand where he was going with this, and, “No.  Nope.  Nope, don’t say it.  Don’t even fucking _think_ it.”

“And you’ve been saying how tired you are, and you just threw up – the last of god knows how many times – and Niall said he saw you tearing up at that detergent commercial the other day.”

“They saved a family of _puppies_ , Li,” he whined in his own defense.

“Is there any possibility that you might be–“

“Don’t.”

“—pregnant?”

Louis closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall with a loud thunk.  A few seconds – and about a thousand swirling chaotic thoughts – later he lifted it up and banged it back against the hard surface a few more times. 

It couldn’t be true.  He came up with a hundred reasons it couldn’t be true – it was only a couple times and they had been careful.

And yet it was possible.  The more he thought about it, the more Louis remembered this feeling.  It wasn’t exactly like the debilitating and overwhelming exhaustion of illness, of just completely shutting down while his immune system attempted damage control.  No, this was more like his body was still fully operational but suddenly way more inefficient, like the processes it used to function were being rerouted and fundamentally altered in some way.

Instead of answering, Louis simply pushed himself off the floor and trudged up the stairs, down the hall, through his room, and into the master bedroom where Harry had bought an all new box of pregnancy tests because, oh yeah, _Harry_ was the one trying to get pregnant.

Fuck.

Louis knew how they worked well enough by now, and didn’t hesitate to yank one open, deposit his sample, place the test on the counter, and set a timer on his phone.

Liam had followed him as far as the bedroom, but joined him on the bed when he flopped down and threw an arm over his eyes as he tried to sort out what to do.  “How?  How the _fuck_ did we end up here again?”

“It’s gonna be alright.  Whatever happens.”

Louis wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t funny really.  It was so eerily similar to the situation he’d found himself in almost exactly five years earlier, but this time he wasn’t sure there was a happy ending in it for anyone.  If he wasn’t pregnant, he’d still have to tell Harry about taking the test, which meant that their tenuous thread of intimacy could snap like a stitch and they might go back to living like distant strangers.  If he was pregnant… well, he definitely couldn’t keep that from Harry again, and it would surely break his heart.

The chimes from his phone had already sounded and silenced, but Louis didn’t move an inch.  As long as he stayed there, he could remain in ignorant bliss.  His relationship with Harry may have been strained for the last few months, but he would take that over the possible destruction that would result from whatever information waited for him on the bathroom counter.

Liam knew better than to push Louis into action, but it took a massive amount of willpower to simply remain by his side as he laid sprawled on the bed and took deep, even breaths.  Then, with one final decisive huff, Louis rolled off the edge and ambled over to the en suite.  He repeated to himself the same mantra he always used when his doubts and insecurities threatened to consume him.

He was strong and capable.

He had the love and support of friends and family.

Harry was his partner in life, and would stand by him no matter what.

He could handle this.

Louis took one last look at himself in the mirror before reaching down with a surprisingly steady hand and bringing the test to eye level.

Two lines.

Louis was pregnant.


	9. The Same Mistakes Again

The test clattered into the sink as Louis dropped to his knees and leaned over the toilet once again.  He tried to relieve himself of the overwhelming nausea that came over him, but this particular wave of sickness could not be blamed on his current physiological state.

No, Louis felt sick for entirely different reasons.

Normally Liam would have waited for Louis to return to him on his own – he knew his best friend hated when someone forced themselves into his personal space – but he had been on the floor for much too long for Liam to not be concerned.

Liam had a pretty good idea of what was on the test, but just to be sure he peeked into the sink, the two very distinct lines confirming his suspicions.  He knelt down so that he was at eye level with Louis and reached a hand to brush away the hair that had fallen across his face.  “Are we happy or are we not happy?” he asked on a sigh, his hand lingering comfortingly on the back of Louis’ neck.

Louis opened his mouth but all that came out was a small squeak… followed quickly by a barrage of tears that caused his whole body to shake as he crumpled in on himself.  Liam sat down on the floor and took him in his arms, rubbing a hand up and down his arm and patting his back soothingly.  It always caught him a bit off guard whenever Louis was like this – the boy had such a big attitude and carried himself with such presence that Liam tended to forget just how small and fragile he could be.

“What am I gonna tell Harry?” Louis finally sniffled, pulling out of Liam’s arms to lean back tiredly against the wall.  “He’ll never forgive me for this.”

Liam reached out and clasped Louis’ hand.  “There’s nothing to forgive, Lou.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He won’t see it that way.”  Louis certainly didn’t, and Harry was going to hate him for this – he was convinced.

“Look, you guys have been wanting to have another baby for a while – now you are.”  He shook the hand that was clasped in his until Louis glanced his direction.  “This is a _good_ thing, yeah?”

Louis wanted to believe him – _god,_ did he want to believe him.  But if that were truly the case, why did he feel so guilty?  He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply through his nose.  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Liam shrugged – though Louis couldn’t see it, he felt the motion through the grip they still had on each other.  “It probably wasn’t supposed to happen like it did the first time either, but that turned out alright, didn’t it?”  At this, Louis cracked an eye open and Liam took this as an encouraging sign.  “Harry loves you.  He loves Rosie, and he’ll love this baby too.”

He really, really hoped Liam was right.

Louis texted Harry to find out when he’d be home.  After subsequently informing him that they’d have the house to themselves that night, Harry amended his timing – he could find a way to make it home a little earlier – and Louis had to shoo Liam out the door, insisting that he’d be fine and needed time to mentally prepare himself before his husband returned.

Louis wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, how best to break the news.  He could actually put to use the ‘Big Sister’ shirt Harry had gotten months ago, but figured it held too many painful memories.  He had been pacing the room with the positive pregnancy test in hand, so deep in thought that he didn’t hear when Harry’s car had pulled up.  Or when he’d come in the front door.  Or gone up the stairs.

“Honey, I’m home,” Harry called, striding in through the open bedroom door.  Louis was so startled that he threw the piece of plastic into his half-open dresser drawer and slammed it shut.  “Picking out some sexy lingerie for tonight?” he purred, coming up behind Louis and molding his body around Louis’ smaller frame.

“Didn’t hear you come in,” Louis said breathlessly, stating the obvious.

Harry chuckled, the sound vibrating through Louis’ body and somewhat calming his nerves.  “Before we get to that, there’s something I think we should talk about.”

“Oh?” Louis squeaked.  Had he seen what Louis was holding when he walked in?

“Mmhmm.”

“And what’s that?”

“Oh nothing.  Just, maybe… a little pregnancy test.”  Louis would have gasped, but his lungs appeared to have stopped working altogether.  “I want to take one.”

Louis’ heart had started pounding so loud in his ears that he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard correctly.  “What?”  He spun in Harry’s grasp and looked up into his face – he was smiling widely and his eyes sparkled with anticipation.  “What do you mean?”

“I know it’s early, Lou – we’ve only been trying for a few weeks.  But… well, then you asked me this morning if I was pregnant and I wasn’t – or, at least I didn’t think I was.  But then I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, you know?  I _have_ been feeling a little different.  I thought it was just excitement about the bakery, but maybe it’s more.  Maybe… maybe this is the universe’s way of trying to make up for… for everything.  I just—it can’t hurt to check, right?”

Well you could knock Louis over with a goddamn feather.  God, what the hell would that be like?  For _both_ of them to be pregnant at the same time?  But also… well, maybe this would make Louis’ news easier to bear, because Harry would still be getting everything he wanted.  Shit, they could soon be outnumbered by their kids!

But Louis remembered this Harry – this easily excited, hopeful man who insisted that every weird noise his body made or strong emotion that overcame him was an indication that he was pregnant.  And every time, Harry was devastated when the results came back negative.

Louis wasn’t sure which outcome to hope for.  He swallowed thickly as Harry continued to stare down at him, perhaps waiting for him to tell him that he was crazy or that it was impossible.  Well, Louis obviously wasn’t the best judge of what was or was not possible.  “There’s only one way to find out.”

Harry leaned down to kiss him on the forehead and raced into the bathroom to go pee on a stick.  Just as Louis had done mere hours earlier.  The difference between the two scenarios was evident when Harry came back into the room, waving his phone around to display the countdown clock.  They sat down on the bed side-by-side, each leaning heavily into the other and radiating a half-anxious, half-anticipatory energy.  Harry leaned down to press more kisses into Louis’ hair, his temple, his cheek, while Louis squeezed his hand and rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

This.  This was what it should have been like – what it was _supposed_ to be like.  Two people desperately in love and waiting with smiles on their faces to see if they were expecting their long-awaited child, as opposed to the fear and isolation and confusion that Louis had felt.  It was why it was supposed to be Harry – it just felt right.

It was then that Louis realized what he hoped Harry’s test would say.

When Harry’s phone timer went off he made to get up, but Louis tugged him back down again.  “Love you.  No matter what,” he assured him with a small smile.

“Me too,” Harry said, suddenly more nervous than he had been in a while.

As Harry got up and walked to the bathroom, Louis knew he should follow him, that the course of their entire future lay waiting just on the other side of the door.  But still he could not get his legs to move – it was all too much.  He didn’t have to wonder for long, though, before Harry shuffled back into the room, shoulders hunched and head hanging slightly.  Louis knew that look; he’d seen it a hundred times by now, though it never hurt any less to see him like that.

“Negative,” Harry shrugged, chewing on the inside of his cheek and avoiding eye contact.  Spurred into motion by his husband’s pain, Louis walked over and wrapped himself around Harry’s torso.  Harry’s arms slipped under Louis’ and bent up at the elbow so that his large hands could dig into the flesh of his shoulders as he buried his head in Louis’ neck and let the tears fall from his eyes.  “God, this is so stupid – I knew it was too soon.”

“It’s okay.  It’s my fault for putting the idea in your head in the first place.”

Harry shook his head against Louis’ neck.  “I thought—I thought I could handle this.  I thought this would be easier.”  How could he possibly feel such loss over something that he never even had?  “I just… I wanted it so bad, Lou.”

Harry’s voice cracked, and with it Louis’ heart.  “Shh, I know, love.”

After a while Harry quieted, and Louis took the opportunity to guide them over to the bed.  He stripped Harry of his trousers and button-down before lying down and pulling Harry down with him.  Harry draped himself across Louis’ body, resting his head on his chest while Louis wrapped an arm around his back, hugging him close.

“Maybe we should stop… you know, trying.  For a while.”  Louis wanted to point out that they had only just started, that Harry was probably just scared, but let him continue giving his reasons anyway.  “I mean, we’ve got enough to worry about at the moment and it’ll probably be a good while before things settle down – I know I’ve been gone a lot and you’ve been picking up a lot of the slack.”

Louis leaned down to kiss the top of his head.  “It’s nothing,” he lied.  “You would do the same for me.”  That much was true – hell, he’d probably sell the bakery all over again just to help take care of Louis.

Shit, Harry might sell the bakery again!  Give up his dream and his passion, _again_ , if he found out.  If… well, if Louis was even actually pregnant.  He knew from personal experience that these tests were not 100% accurate.

It was then, as Louis felt more salty drops falling onto his cotton shirt and heard the soft sniffs that Harry tried to suppress as he pretended to sleep, that Louis decided not to tell Harry about the pregnancy test still hidden in his chest of drawers.  Not yet, anyway.

First, he had to see a doctor.  The idea of sneaking around under Harry’s nose didn’t sit well with Louis, but he had to be certain.  Harry had already suffered too much pain, lost too much hope.  If there was even the slightest chance that Louis was not pregnant, he refused to put Harry through such emotional turmoil.

If Louis was pregnant… well, then he’d figure out where the hell to go from there.  For now, though, he just held Harry in his arms and let him cry until the exhaustion of the day finally pulled them both into a deep sleep.

Harry was gone before Louis woke up the next morning – partly because Louis was dead asleep and partly because Harry didn’t particularly want to face him after what had happened the night before and so took extra care to be quiet in his departure.

When Louis finally opened his eyes, the sun was already high in the sky.  He stretched, his body stiff from being immobile for so long but still feeling better than he had in weeks, and his stomach rumbled.

“Guess you’re hungry, aren’t ya?” he asked, patting his tummy.  “Shit,” he mumbled, quickly realizing what he’d just done.  “I mean _I’m_ hungry.  I don’t even know if there’s a ‘you’ in there, yeah?”  He looked down at his stomach and rolled his eyes – he was still talking to something he wasn’t entirely sure existed.  As he rolled onto his side to get out of bed, he noticed a new tray of food had been left on the nightstand along with a note.

_Thank you for always being my hope and my strength.  In fact, thank you for being my absolute everything.  Love you always.  –H_

Louis could blame the pregnancy hormones for the tears that sprang to his eyes… but that would be admitting to himself that there was, in fact, a pregnancy.  So he simply concluded that he was just a giant sap and stuffed his face with the buttery carbs that his adoring partner had gifted him with.

After scheduling a doctor’s appointment – which unfortunately had to wait until Wednesday, which was their first available time slot – Louis decided to take full advantage of his day off.  Alright, since he’d slept away most of the day, he really only had a few more hours off.  But still, he managed to squeeze in a long bath, the viewing of a gruesome horror movie that Harry always refused to watch with him, and a second – and third – helping of the baked goods from the stash that Harry had provided that morning.

As it got close to dinnertime, though, he was starting to get a little bored.  He should have sat down to do some work, but after all that relaxing, work was the last thing he wanted to do.  So instead he texted Niall and Liam to tell them he was bringing dinner over.

Louis didn’t tell his best friend about what had happened, and he didn’t ask.  Though Liam did eye him pretty intensely every time he thought Louis wasn’t looking.  It was only when he and Rose were finally departing for the evening, as they gripped each other in a tight hug, that Liam finally whispered a quick, “I’m here for you if you need anything.  _Anything_.”

Louis nodded, but released his hold without another word. 

At the moment, what Louis needed was to stay out of Harry’s vicinity as much as possible until after Wednesday.  But, as it turned out, that wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be.  Harry seemed to be avoiding Louis just as much as he wanted to avoid Harry, and so once again had thrown himself into a gone-before-dawn and back-after-bedtime routine.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, Louis showed up at Liam and Niall’s house at around 8 in the morning.  He had texted Liam about the doctor’s appointment, but only because he needed someone to watch Rose while he was there and Liam was the only one who could know where he was going and why.  Unfortunately, Liam was also the only one of them that had a normal job with normal hours that required you to be physically present, which meant he had to leave uncle Niall in charge of Rose.  Normally Louis would be hesitant to let him watch her unsupervised, as she tended to leave his care with a more colorful vocabulary than when she’d been dropped off, but these were extenuating circumstances.

He zipped up Rose’s puffy jacket for the third time since exiting the car and rang the doorbell.  Niall’s face lit up when he saw the little girl, but she zoomed right past him through the open door and straight toward the kitchen where she knew Niall always kept a stash of treats.  They had an agreement – if he let her pick a sweet every time she came over, she wouldn’t spill the beans to Liam about his secret hiding place.

“Oi!  You better not be getting into anything before me,” he called over his shoulder.

Louis rolled his eyes; he was sure his daughter had already stuffed three chocolates in her mouth by now.  “Thanks for taking her this morning, Niall.  I know you’ve got just as many write-ups on your plate as me.”

“O’ course.  Is there… do you need anything?”  Niall shifted his weight between his feet, unsure of how much he was supposed to know or that Louis wanted him to know.

Louis narrowed his eyes.  “What did Liam tell you?”

He glanced back to make sure Rose was nowhere within earshot.  “Oh, don’t blame him – he held out for as long as he could.  But he’s not the most subtle creature when something’s bothering him and, well, I can be very persuasive when I wanna be, if you know what I mean.”  Niall then made some very suggestive but entirely indecipherable hand motions and—he didn’t, he really didn’t.  “Wait, where’s Harry?  Is he not coming with you?  Do you need some company?  Me and Rose can stay in the waiting room—“

Louis held up a hand; there were already too many questions that he had no good answers for.  “I’ll be fine on my own this morning.  Harry… um, he doesn’t know.  Yet.  I don’t- well, I don’t know how he’s gonna take it, and… I just need to be sure first, you know?”

“Fuck, really?”  Louis nodded and Niall pulled him into a big bear hug.  “I meant what I said, you know.  We can come with you.  Or I’m sure—“

Louis shook his head and wriggled out from Niall’s grasp.  “No, no that’s alright.  It’s not, like, anything exciting anyway.  I’ll just pee in a cup and they’ll take some blood and then…”  He shrugged.

“And which outcome are you hoping for?”

Louis was constantly amazed at Niall’s way of speaking whatever was on his mind, for better or worse.  In a way, it made him one of the most honest and sincere people that Louis had ever met, even if it did push him well outside his comfort zone on the whole ‘sharing your feelings’ front.  But, that was also how they had become such fast friends in the first place.

“I don’t know,” Louis answered honestly.  He knew that false positives were highly unlikely, but so were false negatives and he’d already had one of those in his lifetime.  Did that make it more or less likely that he’d be the victim of another anomaly?

“Either way, it’ll all work out.”

Louis almost scoffed.  “You’ve been spending too much time with Liam – you sound just like him.”

Niall gasped in mock offense.  “You take that back.”

“Next you’re gonna be telling me to add spinach to my eggs in the morning.”

“You know, it’s not bad.  And it does get in one of your five-a-day without—“  Niall clapped a hand over his mouth and visibly shuddered.  “Fuckin’ hell,” he said with equal amounts of incredulity and horror, the sound muffled against his palm.  “You and I are having pizza and ice cream this afternoon.”  He pointed an accusatory finger in Louis’ direction, as if it was his fault that Liam had managed to brainwash him into consuming a more healthy diet.

“I’m sure Rosie would love that.  If she hasn’t spoiled her appetite by eating all the treats in your goodie bag already.”

Niall’s eyes widened.  “Shit.  I gotta go.  I mean you- you’ve gotta go.”

Louis rolled his eyes.  “I do.”  He looked down at his shoes then squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take deep breaths.

Niall wrapped his arms around him one more time – candy bag once again forgotten.  “Whatever happens, whatever you need, just name it.  It’s yours.”

Louis squeezed back hard.  “Thanks, Ni.”  He pulled away before he chickened out – it would only delay the inevitable.

When Louis pulled up to the building that housed Dr. Reid’s practice, he was overcome by the oddest sensation – shame.  The last time he’d been there was to get Harry’s pregnancy confirmed.  That was just a few months ago, and now…  It was like he was betraying him.  Like he was getting away with something – sneaking behind Harry’s back and stealing from him the one thing he wanted most.

Louis knew it was just his imagination, but it felt like all eyes were on him – watching, judging, like they could just tell what a horrible person he was.  So when his name was called, he leapt out of his seat and scurried behind the patient door as fast as he could.

It was after the nurse had her samples and had gone off to run the tests that Louis truly felt it.  Loneliness.  It wasn’t that he could reasonably expect Harry to be there – he didn’t even _know –_ but for the second time in his life, Louis found himself wondering if he’d be doing this alone.  He had already done everything wrong, and surely even if Harry could forgive him for getting pregnant in the first place, he would never be able to get over Louis robbing him of these experiences, of keeping all of this from him.

Louis was pulled from his spiraling thoughts when the door was flung open and Dr. Reid entered the room.  Her face turned puzzled when she saw the occupants.  “Oh.  Louis.”

“Sorry to disappoint?”  He wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it was clearly not him.

“No, no,” she waved her hand around dismissively.  “Sorry.  Just, when I saw the name Tomlinson-Styles on the chart, and which tests were being run, I assumed…”

“Oh.”  That explained the confusion – she’d thought Harry might be pregnant again.  Well, she wasn’t the only one.  “Nope.  Just me.”  Again.

Dr. Reid cleared her throat, trying to reorganize her thoughts.  “Well then, Mr. _Louis_ Tomlinson-Styles, it is my pleasure to announce that you are, in fact, pregnant.  Congratulations!”  She smiled warmly at him, but his answering one was tepid at best… pained at worst.  She was skilled enough to read the room and continued on in a more neutral, professional manner.  “You look to be tracking at around nine weeks – does that sound about right?”

Nine weeks.  _Nine weeks_.  He had already made it further into his pregnancy than Harry ever had without even trying, without even knowing about it.  The weight of his guilt ratcheted up a few notches and it was suddenly all the more difficult to breathe.  “Y-yeah.  Sure.”

“You are far enough along that we could perform an ultrasound today – make sure everything’s alright?” she suggested with a slight hesitation.

Louis knew that the doctor meant well – she probably thought his demeanor was due to fear of something going wrong again and that a scan would put his mind at ease, assure him that everything was going smoothly this time.  Only… it wasn’t.  There was no way this would end well, no way to move forward without someone getting hurt.

Louis shook his head when Dr. Reid questioned him again.  “No, uh.  No, I don’t think I want to.  This time.”  Harry would find out about the baby soon enough, and Louis had already withheld so much from him – he would not deprive him of that experience as well.  “If that’s alright?”

Dr. Reid nodded, again trying to assess what was best for her patient in this moment.  “It is still early enough that you have options, should you not wish to continue with the pregnancy.”

Louis startled for a brief moment, not having previously considered this option.  Adding to his guilt, his next thought was that maybe terminating would solve all his problems.  The most selfish part of him never really wanted to suffer through another pregnancy anyway.  He could tell Liam the test was wrong and Harry would be none the wiser – they could keep trying, and whenever the time was right Harry would have his rainbow baby and everything would finally turn out the way it was supposed to.

But… could Louis really do that?  Could he get rid of a child just because he was ashamed and afraid?  And then lie to his friends and family about it ever having happened?

He didn’t think so.

Louis held his head in his hands.  He didn’t think he’d ever be here again – alone in a medical suite finding out that he was pregnant and being entirely unsure how he felt about it.  “Thank you, Dr. Reid,” he finally said.

“Of course, Louis.  We can go over the information together now, if you’d like.  Or I can provide you with some materials to read through by yourself at home.  Or to discuss with… anyone you’d like to discuss them with,” she ended vaguely.

This was the reason they’d chosen to follow this doctor all these years – alright, maybe they’d stalked the hospital and begged her to become their full-time midwife, but hey, she’d let them and even given into their wishes.  Dr. Reid was always kind and professional and open-minded, never assuming anything about their situation or their desires surrounding those circumstances.

“I’d like to take them home and think it over, if you don’t mind.” 

She nodded and began grabbing informational booklets from the wall and pulling up some files on her computer to print out.  “If you have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to come in or call the office.  As you know, I practically live here.”

Louis did know that.  There were many times in the early days of Rose’s life when they were inexperienced and panicked and always second-guessing themselves – they still were all those things, but eventually they just had to learn to live with it most of the time – and ended up soliciting her time or advice at all hours of the night and day.  “I appreciate that.”

She gently placed the sheets of paper in Louis’ lap, as he had made no move to take them from her.  “Whenever you decide what you want to do, just give us a ring and we can set you up with whatever kind of appointment you need.”  When he made no move to get up, she sat back down in her rolling chair and wheeled over to him.  “And if there’s no one else you can – or want to – talk to, I am told that I am a very good listener.  At least, I _think_ that’s what my husband said,” she added, and Louis just had to laugh at how terrible the attempt at a joke was.

“Really, thank you,” he said, with a more genuine smile this time.  “You’ve always been so good to us.”

She leaned in, as if telling a secret.  “Well, don’t go telling the other mums out there, but your little girl is probably my favorite.  I mean, that smile?  Those dimples?  Come on.”  She clutched at her heart dramatically, and again Louis chuckled – he couldn’t disagree.

When Louis left the doctor, his thoughts felt muddy and meandering like they were trying to navigate through a cloud of fog.

He needed to think.

He texted Niall, bribing him into watching Rose for a few more hours with the promise of the pizza and ice cream he’d mentioned earlier.  He agreed, but only if Louis would also pick up one of those huge, customizable salad creations for Liam, who would be less likely to chastise him for his junk food consumption as long as he himself did not have to eat it.

Louis shut off his phone before Niall could ask about the results of his morning tests – he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do yet and didn’t want to be bombarded with questions or thoughts or opinions that were not his own.  He had a few blissful hours to himself, and hoped that some fresh air and solitude would be enough to clear his mind.

It was still quite brisk outside, and midday, so the park was fairly empty as he strolled down its soft dirt paths.  There were a few people out walking, mostly just hurrying along their way as a cut through to the other side, and a few children on the playground, their tired parents on the sideline no doubt just looking for an outlet for that endless chaotic energy all children seemed to possess.

As he was listening to their delighted screeches as they chased each other up ladders and around swings, Louis realized that Rose would be starting proper school next year.  The house would feel so quiet, so empty without her there to fill it with the constant wonder and joy she always found in the things that adults tended to take for granted.

He put a hand to his stomach, wondering if that house would be empty of Harry too, if he found out what was hidden beneath his palm.  He hated that after all these years together he still had these doubts, but he had grown up seeing and experiencing the worst that people were capable of.  Maybe everyone was capable of those things if they were put in enough shitty situations – if they made enough wrong choices.

Louis looped the path several times, again trying to envision every possible scenario and how/whether they would affect his decision – everything from Harry completely being ecstatic over the news to Louis somehow ending up a homeless single father (which involved the compounding of a fair number of extremely unlikely disasters, but still… he worried).

But then Louis realized – all this time he had been formulating and altering the outcome of his decision based on how Harry might feel – what he might want or how he might react.  It honestly hadn’t occurred to him to… well, to think of what it was _he_ wanted.  For himself.  With or without Harry.

He thought back to the last time he’d had to make a decision like this; terror and uncertainty had clouded his judgment and overwhelmed his thoughts then, too.  But then he remembered other things. Small fluttering movements in his belly.  A tiny fist clutched around his index finger.  And more love and adoration than he ever thought a single heart capable of containing.

In the end, and despite the tears that had started streaming down his face at some point, he could almost laugh – just like all the things that had happened over the course of Louis’ life to shape and determine who he was, it was never a choice.  Not really.

 Louis was having another baby.


	10. The Adjustment

When Harry texted to say that he’d actually be home for dinner, Louis took it as a good sign.  He very much suspected that the more time that went by, the harder it would be for him to work up the nerve to tell Harry about the baby.  Now he had a deadline.

Louis called in a rain check for the pizza and ice cream he’d promised Niall, who only let him off the hook because this was a life or death situation, and instead picked up carry-out from the super healthy and organic whole foods place downtown.  Neither Rose nor Louis particularly cared for the place, but he promised her a hot dog and rice later if she at least ate some of her fruit, and alright, maybe he was trying to put Harry in a good mood before he broke the news.

Once home with his daughter, Louis had done an admirable job at distracting himself for the rest of the afternoon.  He played puzzle games with Rose and did a load of laundry and even lit a few of the candles that normally only served as decoration in the living room – well, he lit the one that he didn’t find so overwhelmingly and artificially sweet smelling as to make him nauseous.

“Honey, I’m home,” Harry called when he finally walked through the front door.  It was even still light outside.

“Daddy!” Rose squealed and galloped over into his waiting arms.

“Hello, beautiful.  What have you and papa been up to today?”

Rose pulled him by the hand and led him to the table, where she proudly explained that she set it all by herself (after she’d been handed the appropriate dishes/utensils in the appropriate proportions).  “And papa said that I have to eat all my blueberries and green beans and then I can have rice and hotdog.”

Harry stared at the display of quinoa and kale and winter squash in front of him and cocked an eyebrow at Louis.  “What’s the occasion?”

Louis shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but avoided the question.  “Later.  Let’s just enjoy this while it’s… well it was never really hot, but I bet it’ll be even worse if it sits out, yeah?”

Throughout dinner, Harry eyed his husband with suspicion.  Louis picked at his food, pushing the chunky green bits around his plate and only ever taking a few bites.  This in itself wasn’t out of the ordinary, but usually, once a respectable amount of time had passed, he would get up from the table and microwave himself some leftover pizza or something.  Instead he remained at the table, listening as Rose continued to detail every second of her day, but never interjecting or correcting her even when she very clearly must have gotten the details wrong.

Harry offered to clean up, but Louis just shepherded him and Rose into the living room.  “Why don’t you two put a movie on?  I’ll join you in a bit.”

Now he was choosing to do dishes over watching a kid’s film (whose humor tended to be on both Louis’ and Rose’s levels)?  Something was definitely off.  “Are you alright?” Harry whispered after he had queued up Netflix and given the remote to Rose, who plopped on the couch and started to scroll through the animated movie options.

“M’fine.”  He stared at Harry for too long, then, his heart already starting to race at the thought of the conversation he’d soon have to have with him.  He wanted to believe that Harry would be just as over the moon as he was the first time he’d told him he was pregnant, but what if he wasn’t?  What if the news put another emotional wedge between them?  What if it sent Harry into another depressive spiral?  He wanted to freeze this moment, to bottle up the sweet and gentle concern radiating directly from Harry’s heart and save it for the harder times he knew would lie ahead.  “I just- I love you.  I love you so much, Haz.”

Maybe it was the fear finally starting to boil over the surface, or maybe it was just the fucking pregnancy hormones, but Louis couldn’t stop the quick spasms of his chest as he attempted to hold back the rising tears.  Harry clamped strong arms around Louis’ shoulders and pulled him against his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until there was no more room for Louis’ body to shake.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Daddy, the movie’s starting – you’re gonna miss the song!”

Louis took three quick breaths in before tapping gently on Harry’s chest – an indication that he was ready to be released.  “Later,” he promised, giving another pat to Harry’s chest and nudging him in the direction of his waiting snuggle buddy before retreating to the kitchen where he could get a grip.

Louis berated himself as he scrubbed the plates with unnecessary ire and vigor.  He was supposed to be making Harry feel happier, more at ease, and now he’d just made him all worried and protective.

When there was nothing left in the kitchen to wash or wipe or put away, Louis plastered on a smile and walked into the other room, hopping over the back of the couch into the vacant seat and effectively sandwiching Rose between her two parents.  He could feel Harry’s eyes on him, but determined to fix his gaze on the television.  When he would not catch his eye, Harry reached over Rose’s shoulders and cupped his hand around the back of Louis’ neck, rubbing a thumb gently back and forth in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.  At first Louis tensed at the contact, but then relaxed into his touch and allowed himself to enjoy this last moment of peace with the two people he loved most in the world.

“Alright, bedtime, my little flower,” Harry said, leaping up as soon as the credits started to roll.  He loved his evenings with Rose, and it was still a little earlier than they usually put her down, but she was clearly tired – probably not having had the most restful nap under Niall’s care – and at the moment Louis obviously needed his attention.

“I’ll do it.”  Both Rose and Harry looked at Louis like he’d grown a second head.  “What?  I can put my own daughter to bed,” he huffed.  “Been doing it for weeks now,” he grumbled, quieter this time, grabbing Rose’s hand and towing her toward the stairs as she shot Harry a helpless expression.  But despite the practice, Louis’ process would inevitably take longer and there was the slightest possibility that he volunteered solely with the hope that Harry would already be passed out by the time he got done – the man held up well for their daughter’s sake, but getting up before the sun often made Harry the early-to-bed type. 

No such luck.

Once he had bribed Rose into brushing her teeth and wrangled her into her pajamas and read twice as many books as necessary and sang the goodnight song, Louis finally shut the door.  He lingered there for a moment, resting his forehead against the wood and taking a few calming breaths.

He peeked into their bedroom – it was dark, but there was no one under the covers.  Damn.  Well, Harry wasn’t in bed, but that didn’t mean he was still awake.

Louis continued his careful steps down the stairs and peered around the corner to the living room.  Harry was in much the same position as when he’d left him, except his eyes were trained on the staircase and easily spotted when Louis came into view.

They eyed each other warily as Louis shuffled into the room.  He sat on the coffee table, facing Harry with their knees a few inches apart.  Harry knew this game, and trying to force Louis to speak his mind would only put him on the defensive.  He leaned forward, his gaze intensifying in the silence to the point that Louis finally had to look away.

In the minutes that followed, Louis opened and closed his mouth several times, wanting to get the words out but not quite knowing how.  Eventually, he held up one index finger, indicating that Harry should stay there as he exited the room briefly.  He disappeared up the stairs again for a few minutes, and when he came back in, he didn’t appear any different than when he’d left.  Harry watched as Louis paced the length of the small table, pausing every so often to turn and face him, only to resume his short walk.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Louis finally murmured, rolling his eyes at himself before reaching in his back pocket and tossing the positive pregnancy test on the coffee table in front of Harry.  “Um, surprise?” he added when Harry continued to stare blankly at the small piece of plastic. 

“Are you serious?”

Louis brought a hand up to chew at his nails, even though they had already been withered to nubs by this point, and nodded hesitantly.  The question could have been fueled by any number of emotions; Harry was usually an open book, but Louis wasn’t quite sure what he meant this time.  Was he shocked?  Angry?  Excited?

 “You’re pregnant?”

Again Harry’s face gave nothing away, and Louis didn’t know the best way to answer.  He settled for quick and to the point.  “Yeah.”

Harry nodded, more to himself than to Louis, and when he looked up with tears evident in his eyes Louis thought that maybe, just maybe Liam was right – maybe he wanted this and everything was going to be okay.  “Wow, that’s um-”  He swiped at the moisture on his cheeks and held his face in his hands.  “I mean that’s- I was… I was not expecting that.”

Louis still didn’t know what to make of Harry’s reaction – it didn’t match any of the possible scenarios he’d played out in his head – and it was putting him on edge.  He sat down on the couch, but as soon as his butt landed on the cushion Harry shot out of his seat.  Louis tried not to let the rejection get to him.

Harry pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger and paced the length of the room several times before he spoke.  “How long?”

“How long have I been pregnant or how long have I known about it?”

Harry’s footsteps faltered – he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Louis had been keeping this information from him.  He had been gone a lot lately, but… but surely Louis would have reached out about something this important.  “Both.”

Louis sighed and studied his hands, which were currently twisting and contorting each other into awkward and uncomfortable shapes in his lap.  “Took a test Saturday.  Saw Dr. Reid this morning.  Nine weeks.”  Instead of spelling out what all this information meant, he let Harry work it out for himself. 

Louis was definitely pregnant, having conceived sometime over the Christmas holidays.  They had spent time alone together since Louis had taken the initial test, enough that they could have at least discussed it.  And Louis had gone to the first doctor’s appointment without him.

Harry didn’t know which revelation hurt the most as a dozen different kinds of pain wrapped themselves around his insides and squeezed.  His mind, his heart, his very bones… they all ached with emotions so complex and confusing that he wasn’t even sure he could put a name to them.

He kept staring down at his husband and knew that he should say something – Louis was clearly distraught and Harry should have been the one to comfort him, to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright.  But he couldn’t.  Because it wasn’t.  Nothing about this felt right.

 “I… I need some time.”  He knew that wasn’t what Louis wanted to hear – what he _needed_ to hear – but it was all he had to offer in that moment.

Harry took the steps to the second floor two at a time and lingered outside the door he hadn’t stepped foot into for months.  With a deep breath, he jiggled the handle open and shuffled inside, closing the door behind him.

Louis was frozen in place for several minutes.  Harry had asked for time, but… well, honestly, Louis was freaking out more than a little.   This afternoon, back when the future was all still hypothetical, it was easy for him to convince himself that he was brave and strong enough to do whatever it took to keep his family together, to have this baby and fight for his marriage and _make_ life go his way for goddamn once.

But now that he was here, being open and honest and vulnerable, life may be fucking him over once again.  Well, screw independence – when he and Harry had pledged their lives to each other, they had promised to be there for each other.  And right now he needed a strong pair of arms around him, a deep voice telling him that he was loved and wanted.  He needed his other half to make him feel whole again.

When Louis tentatively pushed open the door of the nursery, he found Harry leaning heavily against the railing of Rose’s old crib, which they had retrieved from storage shortly after the room was painted.  “Guess we can keep all this stuff in here now,” he said, the joke tasting bitter even on his own tongue.  “Please talk to me,” he said when Harry remained impassive.

 “I need you to leave, Louis.  Please.”  It was the one thing Harry had asked of him, and it wasn’t for entirely selfish reasons.  He was trying very hard not to lose his temper – he knew Louis didn’t deserve it, but there was currently an unpleasant cocktail of anger, jealousy, and guilt swirling around in his belly that was just begging to be unleashed on someone. 

Louis told himself that it was for Harry’s own sake that he ignored the request and stepped further into the room, but that would be a lie.  “Look, I’m sorry.  I mean, I know this isn’t what we wanted—“  Harry spun on his heels with a scorching gaze and it was then that Louis realized how that must have sounded.  “No!  No, I mean we did want… just not like this.  I mean I wasn’t—just that it wasn’t supposed to be me.” 

The fire quickly left Harry’s eyes and left in its wake a scorched sadness that simmered like hot coals.  “It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he echoed, the anguish in his voice that had only recently begun to lighten now back in full force.

“Shit, this is all coming out wrong,” Louis said in a panic, running a hand through his hair.

“No, you’re right.  It wasn’t supposed to be you.  It wasn’t supposed to be you with the morning sickness or the mood swings or the weight gain.  It wasn’t supposed to be you having to pee 200 times a day or getting woken up in the middle of the night with a tiny foot in your kidney.”

He listed these afflictions with such longing, and Louis reached out to grab his forearm.  “Haz—“

Harry snatched his arm away and threw it up in the air.  “You didn’t want this.  God, you even _said_ you never wanted to do this again.”  Louis flinched; he remembered those words coming out of his mouth, and even meaning them at the time, but he’d give anything to take them back now.  “It was me.  It was my job, my responsibility.  And I failed.  I couldn’t do it.  It took years for me to even get the chance, and then I fucked it up in a matter of weeks.”

“Hey, you know—“

“Don’t fucking tell me it wasn’t my fault – who else’s would it be?”  Louis didn’t want to make things worse, so he kept whatever reassurances were on his tongue to himself.  “When we first started dating, it was a solid year before you let me into your bed.  I waited for you – as long as you needed me to.  But then when I needed to wait – after I went through one of the most traumatic experiences of my life – you barely even gave me a few weeks before practically begging for it.”

Louis coughed and kicked at the carpet.  “I thought- I thought you wanted to.  Too.”

He rounded on Louis then.  “What I thought was that our marriage was over, Lou!  I thought you were gonna leave me, and I couldn’t—it’s not like you forced me or anything, but… fuck, I would’ve done anything to keep that from happening.”

Fuck.

This accusation stung worse than the rest, mostly because it held a kernel of truth at its core.  After the miscarriage, Louis had been the insecure one.  Louis had been the lonely one.  The needy one.  And all of those things had led to Louis being the one to break down and, quite possibly, guilt Harry into engaging in an act of intimacy he wasn’t yet ready for.

Louis swallowed down the bitterness of shame – a difficult feat considering the large knot firmly wedged in his throat – and managed some semblance of an even tone as he said, “I’m sorry if… if I did that to you.”  He should have been stronger – Harry deserved that.  “I thought—well, I’d take it all back now if I could.”

And this, this was the worst part about the whole situation, the thing that hurt Harry the most.  It was so easy for Louis – they weren’t even trying, either time he’d gotten pregnant.  Harry would give anything to have what Louis had, and here Louis was saying that he’d give anything to give it up.  “You don’t want the baby?”

Louis was starting to think that anything he did say would just make things worse.  Too bad he was shit at keeping his mouth shut.  “Damnit, that’s not what I said.” 

“But that’s what you meant, isn’t it?  God, you have no idea how fucking lucky you are.”

“Jesus, Harry, I know this isn’t how we planned it, but isn’t this still what you want?”

“What I want is _my_ baby.  I want _my_ baby, Lou.  But I can’t have that – she’s gone.”

Louis closed the distance between them and looked up at Harry; angry lines were still carved into the space between his brows.  “You don’t think I want that too?” he asked softly.  For so many reasons, he wanted that more than anything.  “I’m sorry that you’re hurting.  I’m sorry that I hurt you – that I’m still hurting you.  I’m sorry that I can’t change the past and that I’m saying all the wrong things.  I’m just, I’m sorry, okay?”

Harry knew he was being unfair and should back off – that Louis was blaming himself for things that were not his fault.  But honestly, despite the irrationality of it, part of Harry blamed him for it too.  A new life had been created not out of love or longing, but rather desperation and remorse.  And as a result, the joy and excitement that he should feel – maybe did feel, deep deep down – was replaced by blind anger.

The tears started flowing down Louis’ face and he reached out for Harry, who backed further into the room.  “Don’t.  You don’t get to do that now.”  The rational part of his brain screamed that he was making a mistake – the same mistake he’d made in pushing Louis away after the miscarriage.  But just like then, everything hurt and being around him only made it hurt more; he couldn’t even think straight, and decided that at the moment he needed to get out of there before he said something truly unforgiveable.  If he hadn’t already.  “I need—I can’t be here tonight.  Not right now.” 

As a last ditch effort, Louis threw himself in front of Harry’s storming path, pressing his small hands against his chest and looking pleadingly up into his eyes.  “Please.  Please don’t do this – don’t walk out on me.  On us.  Again.”  It was a desperate, low blow; and, as it turned out, the last straw.

Louis knew that Harry leaving him when he was pregnant the first time was his biggest regret, even if he hadn’t known about it at the time.  He thought that bringing it up would knock some sense into Harry, but all it did was break something deep inside him, something that then caused a door in his heart to slam shut.  “You’ve had days to process this.  The least you could do is give me a few fucking hours,” he finally hissed, eyes cold.

With that, Harry left Louis alone in the room that now held yet another painful memory.  He heard Harry trudge down the stairs, but still jumped when the front door slammed shut.  Louis peered out the window and watched as Harry lingered outside his car door for several moments, kicking it hard enough to leave a dent before climbing inside.  Once behind the wheel, Louis swore he saw the glint of moisture on Harry’s cheeks.

And he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

When Louis was finally able to force his feet to move, he made it as far as the hallway before running smack dab into his sleepy four-year-old stumbling out of her room.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned and squinted up at him through the relatively bright lighting in the hall.  He wasn’t sure how much, if anything, she’d heard of his exchange with Harry, but she didn’t look particularly upset so he guessed it wasn’t much.  “Why don’t you go back to bed, love,” he urged, trying to keep his emotions in check at least long enough that she wouldn’t have to see him break down.

Instead of acknowledging his request, she asked a question of her own.  “Papa, why is this door always closed?”  She peered around him toward the door that he’d just appeared out of, which was still standing slightly ajar.  “Are you hiding something in there?”

“Not exactly, love.”  He sighed, kneeling down to her level.  “See, that room is very special.  Just like you have your own room, and daddy and I have our own room – that room belongs to someone else.”

“Who?” she asked, wide-eyed at the thought of someone else sharing their living space.

“I don’t know.  I- we… we never got a chance to meet them.”  It still felt like Harry’s nursery, and though they would need the space soon enough, Louis wasn’t sure how that would ever feel right.  Yet another way he’d already failed his unborn child.

Rose didn’t understand why her father’s voice was catching – why there were tears in his eyes as he spoke – but her expression turned thoughtful.  “They can’t have their own room if they don’t live here, papa,” she explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  “If someone lives there, _then_ it’s their room.”

God, it made so much more sense coming from a four-year-old.  It was also a much more simplistic view of life, but Louis would take simple right now – he would cling to it for dear life.

“You are wise beyond your years, daughter,” he praised, scooping her up and carrying her back to her bed.  He had every intention of tucking her in and heading to his own room, but he wasn’t sure he could stand sleeping in that big empty bed.  He often went to bed alone as of late, and subsequently woke up alone, but even then he would be able to see the small traces of his husband that were left behind from his short stay there – an odd wrinkle pattern in the sheets, a remnant of cologne that clung to his pillow, or even a tender note left at his bedside or on the bathroom mirror.  This was different.  This time he would be well and truly alone.  The small toddler bed was not exactly ideal for a full-grown adult, but… well, as Harry loved to point out, Louis was only mostly full-grown.  “Mind if I stay for a cuddle?” 

Instead of answering, Rose simply tackled him to a horizontal position and wrapped her body around his torso as he tugged her even closer.  Despite the six ways from Sunday her parents were currently fucked up, Rose ended up a pretty damn good kid – the best thing that had ever happened to _him_ , anyway.  And as her sweet face rested on top of his stomach – on top of her little brother or sister – Louis was overcome with the certainty that he would feel the same way about that kid too.

With full arms and an even fuller heart, Louis was asleep before she was.


	11. The Game Changer

It was like going back in time.

In the days that followed, Harry withdrew, shrugging off Louis’ attempts to talk to him, to touch him.  He spent hours away from the house, though the bakery was well enough on its way now that Louis knew it couldn’t possibly occupy that much of Harry’s time.

And Louis?  Louis went back to blaming himself and falling back into believing that this it was only a matter of time before it all imploded.  But still he plastered on a smile and went through the motions day after day all while everything precious and hopeful inside him was shattering.

Other than the occasional clipped greeting or discussion of their daughter’s welfare, they may as well have been roommates rather than soulmates.  The two were exactly where they had been during the darkest parts of the winter, and just like then, Louis wasn’t sure whether they’d make it through this. 

Or, rather, whether _he’d_ make it through this.

On the morning of the charity tournament, Louis had secretly been hoping that something would change between them.  He guessed that Harry wouldn’t really want to go, even though his schedule had already been cleared for the whole day, but thought that maybe seeing both him and Rose in their little matching football kits would be enough to convince him.

“What’s that?” Harry asked with genuine confusion when Louis descended the stairs, Rose kicking happily in his arms.

Louis looked down at himself.  “I know, the colors are a bit horrid, but it’s not like I had a say in the matter.”

“No, I mean- what’s… why are you wearing that?”

Louis had to hide his hurt – had Harry really forgotten about one of the biggest moments in his career?  Hell, in his life?  “Founder’s First.”  Harry continued to stare at him blankly.  “I’m playing in a football match today.  Kind of a big deal.”

Harry shook his head to dispel the disbelief crowding his thoughts.  “No, I know that the game is today, but why- you can’t—you can’t play, Lou.”

Now it was Louis’ turn to be incredulous.  “Excuse me?”

“You can’t play football when you’re—“  He cut himself off, suddenly very aware of the four-year-old that still had her arms around Louis’ neck.  “You can’t.”

Louis gently set Rose down and whispered something in her ear, gently patting her on the bottom to send her in the direction of the kitchen.  “What exactly do you mean ‘I can’t’?” he hissed once she was out of earshot.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the roots in frustration.  “Shit, Lou, do you really think it’s a good idea for someone in your condition to be playing contact sports?  Really?”

Louis didn’t answer right away – couldn’t answer.  His mind was reeling.  “I-“

“Did Dr. Reid okay this?  Did you even _ask_ a doctor about this?”

Louis’ eyes were vacant as this revelation washed over him.  Not only hadn’t he asked, he hadn’t even _thought_ to ask.  “I- what?”  He wasn’t sure whether it was willful ignorance or unfounded optimism, but he refused to accept that Harry might be right.  “It’s fine.  I’ll be fine.”

Harry’s eyes went so wide that Louis was afraid they might pop out of his stupid self-righteous skull.  “You’ll be _fine_?  You can’t know that!  You could get hurt.  You could- could-“  Harry took a shuddering breath; they couldn’t lose another baby.  He wouldn’t survive that.  “You can’t play.”

“And you can’t just ignore me all the time and then all of a sudden expect to have a say in the choices I make.”

Harry swallowed, a touch of remorse shadowing his features.  “That’s… fair.  But Louis, don’t risk the health and safety of our child because of me, because of my actions.”  Or lack thereof.  “Please.”

Louis barely even heard the warning over the endless cycle of _ourchildourchildourchild_ replaying over and over in his brain.  “Our child?  So now it’s our child?”

“It’s always—“

“Uh uh.  No.  You don’t get to stand there and pretend like you’ve ever wanted to be a part of this.”

Harry was trying to remain calm, but he could see Louis crossing over into his irrational, hyperemotional, combative mode; in other words, it could soon be very difficult to get him to see reason.  “Louis, think about what’s best for—“

“I said no, Harry!  You don’t get to say what’s best for me.”

It sounded very much like Louis was still planning on playing, and anger crept into Harry’s already desperate tone.  “This isn’t about _you_ – stop acting so selfish!”

Selfish?  Selfish!  Was the king of shutting people out for his own inability to deal with his shit really calling _him_ selfish?  “Fuck you, Harry.  You know what?  Never mind – that’s how we got here in the first place.”

“Louis—“ Harry ground out in exasperation.

“Just because your body can’t properly protect the life growing inside it doesn’t mean mine can’t,” he snapped, the words cracking like a whip.  He immediately regretted the careless thought, but it was too late.  There was no going back from this.

Half a dozen emotions flitted across Harry’s face – none of them pleasant – before he spun on his heel and marched into the kitchen.

Louis would have followed, but honestly he couldn’t move.  He couldn’t believe what he’d just said to his husband, and he was sure the pit that had opened up in his stomach as a result would swallow him whole.

Harry came back into the room carrying Rose and refusing to look Louis in the eye.  He watched them for a moment – as Harry grabbed his keys and wallet, pulled Rose’s coat down from the hook and pulled her reluctant arms through the sleeves.

“What- where are you going?” 

The question was directed at Harry, but it was Rose who answered.  “Daddy says we can’t go to the game.”

Louis had expected for Harry to stay far away, even before what had just happened, but now he was keeping his daughter from him.  “What?  Of course—“

“We’re going to visit nana,” Harry said, addressing no one in particular with a voice devoid of emotion.

“You can’t- she’s going to the game.”  Harry just continued quietly getting their things together for the drive as if Louis hadn’t spoken.  He tried again.  “She wants to go to the game; she’s been looking forward to it for months.”

Harry leaned down and handed Rose a little backpack filled with her things.  “Go take your things out to the car, baby.  I’ll be out in a second.”  Rose looked between her two parents, torn between their opposing agendas.  “Go,” he demanded, causing her to jump a little and scurry out the door.

“What the hell!” Louis exclaimed, grabbing Harry’s arm before he, too, walked out on him.

Harry stared down at the unwelcome physical contact, but Louis refused to let go without an explanation. 

So Harry gave him one.

“You clearly can’t put anyone else’s wants and needs above your own, and honestly I don’t trust you to be able to look after Rose right now.”

Louis’ hand released of its own accord as he backed up in shock.  He- he’d always thought of himself as a shit parent, but Harry was the one that was always there to reassure him that both he and their daughter were lucky to have him in their lives.

Maybe… maybe that just wasn’t true anymore.

As Harry left with Rose, Louis was… well, a lot of things.  He wanted to be angry or offended.  He wanted to be able to deny Harry’s accusations and hold onto some sort of righteous indignation.

Instead all he felt was shame.

But Harry… he had to be overreacting, right?  Exercise was good for pregnant people; he definitely remembered someone saying that.  And bodies were designed to keep a baby safe, otherwise people would be freaking out every time they tripped or bumped into something.

He would be fine.

At least, that’s what Louis kept trying to tell himself as he shifted nervously behind the wheel of his car.  His fingers drummed mindless patterns on the steering wheel as his restless mind refused to settle.

About 10 minutes out from the stadium, a particularly vigorous bout of stop-and-go traffic caused his stomach to turn and he had to pull to the side of the road. He rolled down the window to breathe in some fresh air and closed his eyes, hoping the sickness would just pass over and through him rather than settle in his gut and demand action.

Unfortunately, as his stomach began to settle his mind became increasingly unsettled and he knew what he had to do.  What he should have done in the first place.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, pulling out his phone to dial the number of his doctor’s office.  He was put on hold for a few minutes before being connected to Dr. Reid’s line.

_“Mr. Tomlinson, this is a surprise.”_ Louis was not normally one to reach out for help; he was often too stubborn for that.  _“What can I do for you?”_

Louis cleared his throat.  “Ehm, football.”

_“…football?”_

Louis huffed.  “Yeah.  Can I- I mean, am I allowed to play.  Football.  Like this.”

_“Hmm, a bit of physical activity does do the body good.”_   Ha, he knew it.  _“But with football – or any sport with a ball, really – there is an increased risk of receiving a blow to the abdomen or other bodily injuries and is therefore not recommended during pregnancy.”_   Shit.

“So I can’t play?”

Dr. Reid sighed at his petulant tone.  _”I can’t force any of my patients to do – or not do – anything, Louis.  I can only make recommendations based on the most current medical wisdom and best practices.”_  

Though she couldn’t see it, Louis rolled his eyes at her slightly flippant tone.  But he supposed that this was probably a sore spot for most physicians with obstinate patients, knowing what was best but being entirely powerless to enforce it.  “Thanks, Dr. Reid.  I’ll, uh, take that under advisement.”

_“Do you have any other questions?”_

Aside from begging her to give him any reason that he shouldn’t feel completely guilty for what he was planning to do today…  “No, thanks.  That’s it.”  That’s all he really wanted but really didn’t want to know.

_“Alright, then take care, Louis.  And be sure to call if… anything else comes up.”_   She had heard the defiance in his response and guessed that he was, in fact, going to play football today anyway.

Louis hung up and leaned forward to rest his head on the steering wheel.

Okay, so playing football while pregnant wasn’t _recommended_ , but it wasn’t expressly forbidden.  It wasn’t like he was binge drinking or skydiving or something.  He’d just be doing a bit of running and kicking a ball around.  No harm in that.

He had even almost convinced himself of this as he pulled into the VIP parking section and was ushered through the underground walkways and out onto the pitch.

After the blow-up with Harry and unscheduled pit stop, Louis was running a bit behind and most of the other players were already out warming up.  Hell, even the stands were already starting to fill up – mostly sponsors and the families of the participants, which caused Louis’ heart to ache at the thought of the two empty seats he’d reserved for the occasion.  At least the magazine had bought out a good section for employees to attend and cheer their co-worker on, which meant Niall and Liam would be there.

Louis was an expert at living in denial, but as he ran some drills and kicked around with the other players that had been assigned to his team, he knew that he was deeper in it now than he had ever been before.

He knew he shouldn’t be here, it was just… he wanted this so bad.  God, did he want this.  His childhood had been beyond shitty, and football was the one thing that gave him hope during those dark times.  Eventually, even that had been stolen from him.  But now he had a second chance to live out his dream – why should he have to give it up again?

It wasn’t fair.  He deserved this.

And yet.  Despite the speech, the deeply misguided rationalizations, he kept repeated to himself in his head, something wasn’t right.  Being on the football field usually filled him with a sense of freedom, of power.  Like he could go anywhere or do anything if he was just fast enough, skilled enough, determined enough.

He was still all those things, but now they were impeded by the heavy weight of anxiety and uncertainty.  As much as he tried to suppress those feelings – put them out of his mind and focus on nothing but the game – he found himself moving more cautiously, making more mistakes by constantly being on the defensive rather than the aggressive offense that victory would demand.

Despite his subconscious brain’s attempts to sabotage his efforts, Louis was determined to power through.

One mistake changed all that.

The game hadn’t started yet, but his team currently had the use of the field.  Louis was traveling the ball quickly toward the goal when a movement to his right caused him to flinch and overcorrect, which then made him trip over the ball and go tumbling to the ground.  This in itself wasn’t so bad, but then the surrounding players swarmed in an attempt to steal the ball away, their feet kicking out all around his still sprawling form, one of which narrowly missed his midsection and landed a particularly violent blow to his thigh.

The guy was trying to apologize, but Louis was gasping for air, overcome and overwhelmed by guilt and adrenaline and absolute terror.

Shit, what was he doing?  What the hell was he doing?  He was being so stupid.  So, so stupid.

He stayed curled up in the middle of the field long enough that someone called the staff doctor over to examine him.  When he was lifted to his feet and led toward the sidelines, Louis was surprised to find that he was actually limping a bit – the aggravated nerves and tendons already weakened from previous injury.

“Tomlinson!” his boss called to him from behind the railing at the base of the fan seats.

Louis didn’t have the energy – or, frankly, the evidence – to correct the use of his unmarried name, even if it was clearly stated on the back of his jersey.  “Yeah?” he asked, hopping over there once the physician had written off the likelihood of any major damage.

“You okay?” Niall asked, having descended the stairs with the executive as soon as he’d seen Louis go down.  Liam was glowering beside him, no doubt sharing in Harry’s disapproval of his decision to participate.

Louis didn’t blame him – he really _shouldn’t_ be here.  “Yeah, just… not, uh, feeling too great.  Think I might… have to sit this one out,” he mumbled, still not quite believing he was letting the words leave his mouth.

“What?  What do you mean?  You got right back up – you’re fine now,” his boss insisted.

Louis shook his head.  “No, I- it’s… not the leg.”  Well, not entirely.  It still hurt, but on any other day he would have popped a few painkillers and been ready to go.  “I’m just- I don’t feel too well,” he explained vaguely.

“S’okay, Lou – they’ve got subs for a reason,” Niall reasoned with a knowing smile.  “I’m sure they can make do without you.”

“This is a big deal for us, Louis.  You’re- you’re representing our brand.  We’re paying out of our asses to have someone from _our company_ out on the field, and now you’re bailing because of a little head cold?  I thought you wanted this!”

Louis was wilting under the weight of his boss’s accusations.  He knew all that.  He knew this was a privilege.  An expensive privilege, at that.  And he was letting everyone down – he’d already disappointed Harry and Liam and his doctor by choosing to play, and now he was failing his team and the man who’d made his entire career by changing his mind.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“I’m s-sorry,” Louis stuttered, the adrenaline from earlier wearing off and leaving him a bit shaky and weak.  “I just- I can’t.”  His boss looked like he was about to protest some more, but just then Louis’ stomach churned and he clamped a hand over his mouth.

Liam, ever the perceptive and practical one, was quick to dump the contents of his extra large plastic cup on the ground and hand the empty container through the bars of the handrail to Louis just in time for him to turn his guts out into it. 

The episode was violent enough to bring tears to Louis’ eyes and necessitate a hand on the railing to keep him upright.  When he was finished, he scowled down at the murky, vile mixture and tossed it into the nearest bin.  Probably not the most proper trash etiquette, but continuing to have the contents of the cup anywhere near his face probably would have just caused him to produce more of it.

Louis’ boss went from being irritated to sympathetic, and for probably the first time in his life, Louis was actually almost grateful for the morning sickness that had been plaguing him for weeks.  “Shit.  No, yeah, that’s- yeah, you probably shouldn’t play,” he stuttered, a little taken aback by the fact that Louis was feeling this poorly and had still intended to play.

 “Sorry,” Louis mumbled again, looking at his feet.  Then he got an idea and his head snapped up.  “Hey, what if Niall took my place?”  All three men froze in surprise.  “We’ve been training together, so I know he’s up for it, and you’d still have your rep out on the field.”  He still looked uncertain, so Louis leaned in closer and stage whispered, “And although I would take this to my grave before admitting that I ever said this, he’s just as good as I am.”

“Told ya,” Niall said with a grin, whacking Liam in the chest absently with the back of his hand.

Louis stayed to watch the game, taking the newly available seat beside Liam.

They obviously didn’t have time to print up a new jersey for Niall, so Louis gave him the one off his back.  It was bittersweet, seeing his own name out on the field without actually being the one wearing it.  What was even worse – or better, maybe – was that Niall was the one to score the one and only goal of the game.  Using a maneuver that Louis had taught him, no less.

When Niall and Liam asked Louis out to celebrate with them, he grumbled some questionable excuse about having work to do.  Really, he was just in a foul mood and didn’t particularly want to be around overly happy people.  And Niall definitely fell into that category.

It wasn’t that Louis resented the baby.  At least he didn’t think that was it.  No, he just- he was frustrated.  It seemed like he was sacrificing so much and getting so little in return.  He knew it would all be worth it in the end, but right now all he felt was the exhaustion and the constant nausea.  He only saw the beer he couldn’t drink and the clothes he was already having trouble buttoning.  He only knew the emotional distance of his husband and the weight of every goddamn decision he made because it _didn’t only fucking affect him_.

He knew!

He knew that.  Fuck.

It didn’t make it any easier, though.

When he got home, he expected to have to deal with more of Harry’s disappointment and judgment.  He was ready for it – knew now that he deserved it.

But when he pulled up, there were no cars in the driveway and the house was dark and empty.  Right.  Harry had said he was taking Rose to his mum’s.  It wasn’t exactly close by, so they were probably at least staying overnight.

He probably didn’t care, but Louis thought he should at least let Harry know that both he and the baby had made it through the day unscathed.  At first he tried calling, but when no answer came by the third attempt, he resorted to text.

Maybe some humility would help smooth things over.  _You were right – doc said no football for preggos.  Niall played for me instead._

When no response came after several minutes, he tried to make light of the situation.  _Little twat scored the game-winning goal._

Still no answer.

_I’m sorry.  I love you – please come home._   His finger hovered over the ‘send’ button, but never actually pressed it.  Earlier, several massive fights ago now, Harry had accused Louis of manipulating his emotions and guilting him into doing something he wasn’t ready for.  He was afraid if he sent this message, he would be doing it again.  Even if he meant it. 

_Give our little girl a kiss for me_ , he said instead.

Louis spent the rest of the afternoon typing up his notes from the game.  He may not have had a firsthand account, but at least he had been able to observe and analyze from the stands.  He wouldn’t be able to say what faces the players wore – serene or angry or just focused – as they charged at you, but he could describe the quiet strength and grace of the aging athletes as they danced across the field.  He couldn’t write about what it was like to kick the ball into the net, but he could talk about the physical presence that accompanied the wave of sound that roared up from the crowd when Niall did.

It was enough.

He wasn’t hungry.  Or maybe he was nauseous.  It was probably both, but either way Louis forced himself to consume the other half of the pasta salad he’d had for dinner the night before and grabbed a glass of orange juice to go with it.  An odd combination, but if he was going to be throwing this back up later anyway, it might as well be fruity.

Louis was exhausted in every sense of the word, but instead of his feet taking him to an empty bed, he found himself pushing open the door to the nursery.  Only now, in his solitude, did he allow his mind to picture how it might be decorated for the new baby.  It wouldn’t be fair to leave everything the same – the room, as it was, had been designed for someone else.

“Hey, baby,” he cooed, placing a hand on his stomach as his eyes scanned the current décor.  He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d started doing that – talking to his growing child so much about everything.  Probably around the same time that he stopped being able to talk to Harry about it.  “This- this was going to be your sister’s room.  But she never got to live here.  She was too fragile to live in this world and we just couldn’t protect her,” he explained – at least, that was as good an explanation as he had come up with.  “We loved her, so much.  But we are going to love you just as much, I promise,” he added, irrationally concerned that the tiny bean would be offended or hurt by his words.  “Even daddy.  He’s- well, he’s a little confused right now.  He has no idea how much he’s gonna love you but he is, I know it.  But… for now I guess I’ll just have to love you enough for the both of us.”  Louis finally let the emotions he’d been desperately trying to hold back for days, weeks, overtake him.  “I know it’s not enough.  I can’t- I’ll never be enough on my own and you deserve the whole fucking world.  I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry, baby – it’s not your fault I messed up.  But daddy’s taking it out on you anyway.  If you can just hold on a little longer, I know he’ll come around.  He’ll see your face and your little round tummy and all those teeny tiny fingers and toes and he won’t be able to help falling madly in love with you.  Just like I already have.  And even if… even if he never forgives me.  If- if me and daddy can’t make it through this, I won’t regret it – any of it – because it gave me you.”

As Louis finally revealed to this room – so empty, and yet so very full – his deepest doubts and darkest sorrows, the most tightly secured and guarded chambers of his heart bursted like a broken dam, wave after wave crashing over him and causing his legs to buckle beneath him.  He clung to the wooden bars and stared at the bed that their child would soon occupy.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  You don’t deserve this.  I don’t deserve you.”  An endless stream of apologies and confessions bubbled from his lips until he lost all control of the breath in his lungs and could do nothing but weep.

Louis hadn’t noticed when Harry’s car pulled up to the house.  He didn’t notice when Harry carried an already sleeping Rose up to bed and shut her door.  He didn’t even notice when Harry paused outside the crack in the door, unable to go into the room that held so much heartbreak, but equally unable to pull himself away from the sound of his husband’s soft, broken words being poured out to their unborn child.

He listened.  He just stood there and listened and silently wept along with his husband, and wasn’t that just the most accurate representation of their relationship at the moment?  Both living in their own personal, private caves of misery, but separated by a wall and unable to go to each other for comfort.

But this wall had a door.  And all either one of them had to do was walk through it.

Over and over Harry had said that it was supposed to be him, that he was supposed to carry their child.  But as he watched his husband on his knees gripping the empty crib rail with white knuckles, he realized that there were other things he was supposed to be doing too.  Other things he’d promised to do.

Like making Louis laugh when he felt like crying.  Like holding him up when he could no longer hold himself up.  Like reminding him that their love for each other would remain even when everything else went to shit.

Instead, Harry had done the one thing he promised Louis he would never do again.

He left.

He had left him, physically and emotionally, for far too long.  And he had to do something.

He had to make this right.

He just hoped it wasn’t too late.


	12. The Small Bump and the Big Sister

Harry knocked quietly on the half-open door before entering the nursery, not wanting his presence to startle his husband too terribly.  Louis glanced in the direction of the door and scurried to his feet, turning his body away from Harry’s scrutinizing gaze.  Louis wasn’t sure exactly why it was embarrassment of all things he felt at being caught at such a vulnerable moment.  It shouldn’t have been that way – they were supposed to be able to share anything and everything with each other – but instead he was ashamed of his anguish and felt the need to hide it from Harry.

“I didn’t know you were home,” Louis said with as much composure as he could, still facing the wall.

Harry took a tentative step into the room.  “Haven’t been for too long.”

The silence stretched on, and entire novels could be written with the words they didn’t know how to say to each other.

“I didn’t play today,” Louis finally said, unable to keep the pout entirely out of his voice.

“I know.  Watched the game at mum’s.”  Although he almost didn’t when he saw Louis’ jersey out on the field; luckily, Niall’s blond quaff was very difficult to ignore or mistake.  “Thank you.  For that.  I know… that must have been hard for you.”

“You don’t know shit, Harry.”

“I- what?”

Louis turned to face him then, but instead of the anger he’d expected, there was only a deep and resigned sadness.  “You don’t know what any of this has been like for me.  You _can’t_ know.  Because you just don’t _want_ to know, you know?”

Harry was not entirely sure he did.  “I-“

“And I get why this is hard for you.  I do.  I just… I can’t keep doing this.  I can’t.  It’s- fuck, there’s gonna be a baby in this room in a few months, and I’m afraid to even think about moving shit around in here because of what it might do to you.  So I can’t change anything, but… things can’t just stay like this forever either, you know?”

At this point, Harry suspected that Louis was talking about something much deeper than paint colors and furniture.  “I know.  And I’m trying, I just-“

Louis growled in frustration.  “You’re not trying, Harry, you’re _running_.  Every time you’re hurt, every time you’re scared, every time it’s hard – and it has been.  So.  Damn.  Hard.”  He was back to clenching the crib railing in his fists.  “I don’t need you to be perfect, I just… need you to be _there_.”

“I’m here now,” Harry offered, taking another step into the room.

Louis’s bitter smile came out more like a grimace.  “Yeah, but for how long?”

“I’m so sorry, Lou.  I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have just took off like that.”

Harry wasn’t the only one who needed to apologize – Louis had said and done some pretty hurtful things to him as well – and Louis hung his head down between his outstretched arms and sighed.  He was so tired of this endless merry-go-round of doubt and self-pity.  “Sorry.  Seems like that’s all we ever are anymore.”

“Sor—“ Harry began to apologize again before Louis cut him off.

“God damnit, can we stop?  Can we just stop?”  Both of them felt like they had done something wrong, and both of them were trying not to make the same mistakes again, but in doing so it was making it very fucking difficult for either of them to say what they were actually thinking at any given time.  The last time their communication skills had been this bad, they had broken up; Louis couldn’t afford for that to happen again. 

It was a long moment of tense silence before Harry spoke aloud the question he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to.  “Stop what, Lou?” 

When Louis looked up into Harry’s face, which was desperately trying – and failing – to hide the fear and brokenness quivering beneath the surface, he stood up straight and pulled in a deep breath.  “There are things we haven’t been saying to each other; things I think we _need_ to say to each other if we ever want to get through whatever the hell this wall is between us.”  He paused, but Harry didn’t disagree.  “So here’s what’s going to happen.  I’m going to say exactly what I’m feeling – right or wrong, rational or completely crazy, without interruption.  When I’m done – and only after I’m done – you will be given the same courtesy.  Sound good?”

Harry played with the hem of his shirt for a few seconds before asking, “Why do you get to go first?”

As much as Louis wanted to bristle at his petulant tone, he actually found it the slightest bit adorable.  “First of all, because you already feel guilty and you always try to spare my feelings and I’m not convinced you’ll give me the full truth unless I give it to you first.”

Harry’s lips turned down in a scowl, but he didn’t argue the point – it was probably true.  “And second?”

“And second… well, because I want to.  And there are two people currently inhabiting my body, therefore my vote counts double.”

Harry’s mouth quirked up into an amused smile as his eyes traveled down to Louis’ midsection.  It was hard to believe there was a new life growing in there, still so small and almost undetectable.  He swallowed down the feeling of his own aching emptiness and conceded.  “Alright.  Say… what you need to say and I’ll listen.”

Louis hauled in another deep breath, but now that he had the opportunity to speak freely, he realized he didn’t quite know what he wanted to say.  Harry was patient, though, and kept his word not to speak until Louis indicated that he was finished.

“I want to be pissed at you.”  Well, that was probably not the best way to start out.  But whatever.  “You convinced me that we were in this thing – the whole rest of our lives – together.  And from the moment I told you I was pregnant, I started to believe that there was a very good possibility that I would be going through this alone.  And that sucked.”  Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but bit his lip to keep any words from coming out.  “And because of that, there were moments where I had to consider the possibility that I didn’t want to keep this baby.”  Harry let out a little squeak and his chest convulsed in an effort to contain his reaction, but to his credit his mouth stayed firmly shut.  “I do, by the way… want to have this baby, that is.  With you, preferably.”  It felt awkward and the slightest bit humiliating, having to ask your husband whether he wanted to raise your child together, but that’s what it had fucking come to.

Louis was quiet for a long time after that, prompting Harry to whisper, “Am I allowed to—“

“No.”  There was one more thing he had to say, he just didn’t know how, and there was another long pause before Louis began again.  “Also, you were right.  You were right about a lot of things.  What happened to you – your struggle and what you lost – I don’t know what that was like for you.  But I know now that I was being selfish when I- I guilted you into coming to bed with me.  I couldn’t give you whatever it was you needed – maybe I don’t even have it in me to give – and instead took from you what _I_ needed.  And because you’ve always been the better man, you gave it to me.  You sacrificed precious pieces of yourself for the sake of my happiness when you had so little left.”  He swiped at the tear that had escaped from the corner of his eye with the sleeve of his oversized sweater.  “And now I feel like I’m asking you to do it again, like I’m forcing you to stay by my side and suffer in silence because—‘cause even though this pregnancy is my fault, even though I stole this experience from you, I’m too scared and too weak to do it on my own.”

Louis may have had a little breakdown then, releasing all the negative emotions that had built up behind the shoddy dam of self-preservation he’d constructed to just make it through the day.  He also may have allowed himself to cry into Harry’s chest.  Because despite the fact that he wasn’t sure he could trust Harry with his heart, or whether Harry would even want it if he offered, there were too many strong emotions fighting for dominance in his hormonally-charged body and Harry’s arms were the only place that felt like home.

It was a long time before Louis reached a state of equilibrium, but once he had, Harry tapped lightly on his head to get him to look up.  Though he said nothing, a pleading question was written all over his face and… shit, he was still holding himself to the promise of not speaking until Louis gave him permission.

“I think- I think that’s everything,” Louis said with a wet nervous laugh, swiping his arm across the moisture around his eyes and under his nose.

“Thank god,” Harry sighed and pulled away so they could see each other properly.  He took Louis’ hands in both of his and held his gaze with the more intensity than Louis had ever seen – he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.  “Louis, I love you more than anything in the entire fucking universe.  You and Rose – and now this baby,” he put a hand to Louis’ tummy, “you _are_ my universe.  And the things I’ve said – the way I’ve been acting?  I was- well, I still am… um, a lot of things.  I mean, I’m still not over the loss of my baby – I’m not sure I’ll ever be.”  Louis wanted to mention again that it was _their_ baby, not just Harry’s, but now it was his turn to have his say.  “And it’s going to be hard for me to watch the creation of this new life from the outside looking in.  But… god, Louis, please don’t for a second regret what happened between us to create that life, because you were right.  You were right, too.  After it happened, I was… it was like I was drifting.  Everything hurt, and I didn’t know what to care about anymore, what was important.  I almost didn’t want to know.  And if you hadn’t pulled me back…”  He honestly didn’t know what would have happened.  Maybe they would have been fine, eventually.  But maybe, if Harry hadn’t been pushed to reach out just a little bit, by the time he did it would have been too late.  “I needed you at least as much as you needed me in that moment – I was just too deep underwater to realize it.  I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again, but… well, as long as you keep swimming toward the shore, so will I.  For as far as my legs will carry me.”

Louis was sure he’d meant the words to be comforting, but instead they sounded ominous.  This sinking in the ocean metaphor… well, Louis had worked as a lifeguard one summer.  He knew what it was like when people thought they were drowning.  They didn’t just quietly sink to the bottom; no, they thrashed and flailed and, if the person trying to save them was not careful, they could easily latch on and end up taking them both down.

He really hoped it was just a flawed analogy and not a warning of things to come.

“I do too, by the way,” Harry continued, pulling Louis out of his elaborately morbid thoughts.  “Want to have this baby.  With you.”  Louis draped himself across Harry’s chest and allowed those words to wash over him and seep into his inmost being.  “If you’ll still have me, that is.”

Louis sighed.  “I- Harry, I want to.  God, more than anything, I just—“  He pulled out of Harry’s embrace and ran a hand up and down the length of his jaw.  “I don’t know how.  Things are only going to get harder, Haz.  I am going to get bigger and more stressed and then we are going to have a toddler _and_ a newborn and I- I need to know that you’ll be there.  Without a shadow of a doubt, no matter what happens, that you’ll _be there_.”

Harry wanted to swear up and down that he’d be there for Louis no matter what.  But… well, his track record for keeping those types of promises was not the greatest as of late, and he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.  “What do you need from me?  What can I do?”

If only it were that simple.  “I love you, Harry.  I just… I need to know that I can trust you again.”  Hopefully it wouldn’t take another three years, as it had the first time.  “Can you just… be here?  With me?”  Harry nodded slowly and for the first time in a while, Louis felt like he could breathe again.  “Then that’s enough for now.”

The next several weeks were… quiet.  Of course Harry wanted to rush in and start taking steps to repair things right away, but he had always been better at giving Louis the space he needed when he asked for it.  So Harry kept his distance, but still managed to find little ways to show Louis he was there and that he cared.  He made breakfasts and left out Louis’ prenatal vitamins on the nightstand for him when he woke.  He watched Rose most mornings now so that Louis could actually get a proper amount of sleep.  He bought baby magazines and pregnancy yoga videos – though Louis was probably the least likely one in the house to actually do yoga – and arranged them on the coffee table.

It was a good thing, too, as this pregnancy didn’t seem to want to give Louis a break.  Just barely into his second trimester at 14 weeks, the morning sickness hadn’t abated a bit and yet at the same time none of his jeans would button and most of his shirts were pulled tight at the bottom around the swell that had already started to bloom at his hips.  It was unfair – the worst of both worlds – and he was sure to let Dr. Reid have an earful about it.  She gave him some rational doctor crap about his body ‘already knowing what it was doing’ with a second pregnancy and assured him that none of these things were particularly alarming.

In general, Louis tried to keep a tight lid on all baby-related bodily functions and changes.  He still wasn’t quite sure what kind of reactions to expect from his husband on the subject and, alright, he was vain enough to admit that he was self-conscious about most of it. 

The first time Harry noticed something was different was when Louis had just gotten out of the shower.  A towel was slung low on his waist as he brushed his teeth, and he noticed Harry staring at him from the other side of the open bathroom door.

“Wha’?” Louis asked around the toothbrush that was still in his mouth.  He followed Harry’s line of sight down to the overhang of his belly and internally cursed himself.  He spit out the remaining minty white foam from his mouth and tried to scurry quickly past Harry and over to the dresser to retrieve some clothes, but Harry caught his arm.

“You’re showing?”  Harry had meant for it to be a statement – the answer obvious on Louis’ naked torso – but his surprise made it come out like a question.

Louis tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but only managed to pivot enough to shield the sight from Harry’s view.  “I- yeah, I guess.”

“When did that happen?”

Louis shrugged and Harry frowned – he may have been hiding it a little, but Louis also just genuinely didn’t know.  “It’s nothing – no big deal.”

Louis tried again to pull out of Harry’s grasp, and this time he let him.  “I thought we were done not telling each other what we were thinking,” he said softly, more sad than accusatory, as Louis spun to face the stack of drawers and pulled one open.  “Did I do something to upset you?”  He thought he had been doing a pretty good job of respecting Louis’ desire for a bit of calm and space, but maybe he had crossed a line without knowing it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Louis sighed as he unwrapped himself from the damp towel and pulled on a pair of joggers before turning back toward Harry.  “I just- it must be hard for you to be around me like this and I guess I didn’t wanna, like, parade around in front of you in all my bloated nauseous glory.”  Louis, still quite topless, wrapped a protective arm around his middle.  “I didn’t think you’d want—“  he swallowed around the knot that had suddenly formed in his throat.

Shit.  Harry had noticed Louis doing some of these little things – like sneaking off to the hall bathroom to throw up at night or wearing hoodies even when he was already sweating.  Harry had thought Louis was just uncomfortable being that vulnerable in front of him at the moment, but it turned out he was actively trying to hide or downplay anything related to his pregnancy because he was afraid that Harry would resent him for it.

For all that Louis claimed he didn’t want to do this alone, he had managed to isolate himself anyway.

And Harry fully blamed himself for that.

“Lou,” he said, barely more than a choked whisper.  “I meant what I said – I’m here.  I’m here for you, always.  And you’ll never know how sorry I am that I ever gave you any reason to doubt that.”  At the risk of violating the very deliberate boundaries that they had set up, Harry closed the distance between them and leaned down to press his forehead to Louis’.  “I want to share this with you.  I can’t- I won’t be able to forgive myself if I miss out on everything for a second time.”

Louis sucked in a breath – shit, he hadn’t thought about it that way.  He had deprived Harry of being part of his first pregnancy, and now he was unintentionally doing so again.  Suddenly overwhelmed by the need to be close to him, Louis flung his arms around Harry’s neck and pressed himself tightly against his chest.  Harry hesitated for half a second before clamping his arms around Louis and pulling him even closer.

It was at that moment that Harry decided that hanging back and waiting for things to fix themselves was not going to work – not completely, anyway.  Just as Louis had given Harry a little nudge toward repairing the intimacy between them when the time was right, Harry would do the same for Louis.  And judging by the spark – the longing and romantic abandon – that was currently setting them both ablaze, Harry judged that time to be very soon.

The king of grand romantic gestures, as Louis so affectionately referred to him, would find a way to show Louis that he and their daughter and their unborn child were everything good and beautiful in his world.

Louis pulled back first, the slightly guarded expression now back over his face as Harry’s gaze again landed on his bare stomach.  “Can I-“  He looked up from Louis’ midsection into his eyes and swallowed thickly.  “Can I feel it?”

Louis was slightly taken aback by the request, still wary of Harry’s new acceptance of their circumstances.  “Um, sure.  Of- of course.  Yeah.”

Harry’s large hand easily covered the expanse between the crests of Louis’ hipbones and he exhaled quickly in disbelief.  From afar it looked so soft, but beneath his palm it felt so solid, so _there_.  Harry dropped to his knees as his fingertips explored and tried to memorize every facet of the skin beneath.  “Hi, little one,” he breathed, pressing his lips just south of Louis’ bellybutton.  “How are you doing in there?  Enjoying this nice safe, warm home your papa made for you?”  He paused, as if waiting for a response, then continued babbling.  “It’ll still be a while before I get to meet you, but in a few weeks we’ll get to see you and then we’ll have a picture to show your nana and your aunties and they’re going to be so excited – you’re going to be spoiled rotten, just like your sister.”

Louis really hated to interrupt this moment, but…

“Speaking of which,” he cleared his throat and tugged on one of Harry’s curls until he rose to his feet.  “Um, we should probably- I mean, Rose should, you know… know.  Right?”  Liam and Niall already knew, and they had decided to wait until after the first ultrasound to tell the rest of their family (when they would have a printout and, hopefully, a gender to reveal).  A four-year-old wasn’t exactly the best at keeping secrets, but she deserved to know sooner rather than later that her life was about to drastically change.

As if children had a sixth sense about when they were being discussed, Rose bounded into the room and leapt directly into the center of their king-sized bed.  After a moment of struggling in the comforter quicksand, she sprung to her feet and began bouncing on the bed.

“Oi, you wanna destroy a mattress, do it to your own bed,” Louis chastised.  After a couple extra jumps and another warning glare from her papa, she back-flopped back down and spread her limbs out like a starfish, breathing hard after the manic burst of energy she’d just expended.

“We could do it now?” Harry suggested quietly.

Louis’ heart went into his throat.  He knew they’d have to do it eventually, but… he wasn’t ready yet.  “I- I don’t know.  Should we?  She’s-“  Louis gnawed at his fingernails and stared at his daughter as she swung her arms and legs in a semi-circle on the bed, making duvet angels.  Everything would be different once they told her – there was no going back from it.  “Just makes it seem so real.”

Harry reached out a hand and his thumb traced the lower curve of Louis’ tummy.  “It’s real, love.”  When Louis still seemed hesitant, Harry gave his hip a little squeeze and went over to the bed.  He whispered something to Rose, to which she nodded, then he hoisted her up and walked toward the door.  “Be right back!” he called over his shoulder.

Louis wasn’t quite sure what to make of what was happening, but didn’t have time to figure it out before Harry and Rose were walking back into the room, Harry wearing a nervous smile and Rose wearing—

Louis reached down and gathered Rose up in his arms, hugging her against his chest and pressing kisses into the soft curls that matched her father’s.  He deposited her back on the bed and looked to Harry for confirmation that they were really doing this now.  He nodded, and Louis took a steadying breath.

Louis sat next to his daughter and traced the glittery letters on her shirt.  “Do you know what this says, my little flower?”  She had been practicing her letters, but identifying them and translating them into words were two different skills.  Plus, at the moment, they would appear upside down to her.  She shook her head.  “It says ‘Big Sister’.”

Rose frowned down at the cursive script.  “But papa, I’m not.”

“Well, not yet.”  Her little forehead was still scrunched up in confusion and he gave Harry a pleading look.

Harry knelt down in front of them and enveloped Rose’s hands with his.  “Remember when papa and I talked to you about becoming a big sister?  About how we wanted to grow a baby in daddy’s tummy and then one day we would bring you home a little brother or sister to play with?”  It was a long time ago now that they’d first had this discussion with her, so he was mildly surprised when she nodded.  “Well, making a baby takes a while, but sometime before your next birthday you’re going to become a big sister.  Isn’t that exciting?” he prompted when she remained silent.

“There’s a baby in your tummy?” she asked Harry skeptically, eyeing the outlines of the flat planes of his abdomen beneath his thin shirt.

Harry stifled a choked cough, so Louis answered instead.  “Not in _daddy’s_ tummy,” he explained, getting up from the bed and pulling her with him.  He turned to the side so that she could better see the silhouette of his stomach, pointing at it and cupping his hand around the bottom for dramatic effect.

Rose squinted her eyes and pursed her lips as she leaned in to get a better look.  She pressed the side of her face against it, listening.  The gargling sounds of his digestive system were inconclusive, so she pulled back and started poking at it lightly with her index finger.  It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it did put an uncomfortable pressure on his seemingly constantly full bladder.

“Alright, alright, stop annoying your sibling,” Louis tsked, wrapping his hands around her small wrists and placed them back at her side.

“Do you have any questions for us?” Harry asked, still at eye level with her.  Rose looked at him, glanced up at Louis, then went back to Harry, her bottom lip working but not forming any actual words.  “It’s okay, love.  You can ask us anything.”

Rose looked at the floor and danced in place a couple times before working up the courage to ask what she really wanted to know.  “Will you still have time for me when the new baby gets here?  Will- will you still have enough love left over for me?”

Arms surrounded her from both sides then as both her parents attempted to hold back their own tears and let loose a flood of reassurances.  _Nothing will ever make us love you any less for any reason_ , and _You’ll always be our precious baby girl_ , and _Things will be different, but we will always have time for you_.

When they were done, Rose looked into both pairs of eyes with the utmost seriousness and, in a gesture of trust that she’d witnessed her parents exchange on more than one occasion, raised a pinky out to each of them.  “Promise?”

“Promise,” they echoed simultaneously, Harry and Louis first linking their fingers with Rose and then with each other to form a little pinky-promise circle.  Louis often forgot just how sensitive their little girl was – so in tune with emotions and so very sweet.  She was a miniature Harry in every way, and god Louis could not be more grateful for that.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Harry asked again when they had untangled from each other, wiping the moisture from first his own cheeks and then Louis’.

Rose bit her lip and Louis steeled himself for yet another heartbreaking revelation into the psyche of their empathic four-year-old.  Instead, what came out was, “Can you make sure it’s a girl?”


	13. The Butterfly Effect

The next day, Harry announced that he had a surprise for Louis and requested that he clear his schedule for an entire day to accommodate it.  Louis, long past questioning whatever elaborate schemes his husband tended to cook up, obliged, though it took two weeks for him to be able to make good on it. 

The night before said date, Harry had come home late – not unusual, as he now tended to get a late start in the mornings to take care of their daughter while Louis slept – and Louis was already asleep.  Okay, ‘late’ was relative – it was only about 9:30pm – but Louis was growing a new human and that was exhausting.

So, Louis was only half-awake as Harry dipped into his side of the bed, whispering that he’d be gone when Louis woke up but that the plan involved getting up earlier than Louis had grown accustomed to.  Louis waved him off, but Harry was fairly certain he hadn’t actually heard him and was just trying to get him to shut up so he could go back to sleep.  “Just don’t be miffed when your alarm goes off,” Harry warned, very aware now at how covetous his pregnant husband was of his rest periods.

“I don’t ‘miff’,” Louis slurred against his pillow, wiggling back against Harry’s prone form.

“I’m taking Rose to Gemma’s for the day, so you won’t have to worry about her in the morning.  Just… follow instructions for once, yeah?” Harry begged, draping himself around Louis’ smaller body and resting his palm against his rapidly growing bump.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Louis yawned, sarcastic even in his barely conscious state, before returning to his light snoring.

Harry twisted his head to peck Louis on the cheek, but was too excited and nervous about the next day to fall asleep quickly.  Instead, he took the opportunity to appreciate the firm swell beneath his palm that meant life was growing and flourishing there – it was a wistful sort of feeling, but each day that brought him closer to meeting this child also brought with it a joy and excitement that was beginning to shine light into the places in his heart that had too long withered in the darkness.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, both a declaration and a promise, before finally allowing exhaustion overtake his anticipation.

Louis’ awakening was a bit disorienting.  He had remembered Harry’s weight against him, but now the other half of the bed was cold.  There was also a familiar unpleasant churning in his gut, and an unfamiliar – though equally irritating – beeping in his ear.

He managed to swallow down the bile threatening to come up his throat long enough to slap his hand against an alarm he didn’t remember setting and race into the bathroom.

When his morning routine of hurl, pee, mouthwash, repeat was complete, he noticed that there was a post-it note stuck to the mirror above the sink, and it was then that he remembered – vaguely – the conversation he’d had with Harry the night before.

_Good morning, my love –_

_I hope the munchkin hasn’t given you too much trouble for waking up early.  I sincerely hope it will be worth it.  Breakfast awaits you at the Mercantile Café at 8am.  Be sure to give them your FULL name ;)_

As Louis rummaged through his rapidly shrinking clothes, he started to think that agreeing to whatever outlandish thing Harry had planned for him was not nearly as appealing as just crawling back under the covers and cashing in on that day of solitude he’d been promised so many weeks ago.

But Harry had seemed genuinely excited – and the slightest bit… nervous? – when he informed Louis of his intentions.  How he would accomplish this when he wasn’t actually _here_ , Louis wasn’t sure.  In the end, Louis was more curious than he was uncomfortable, and snagged one of Harry’s t-shirts to finish off his cozy hobo chic look – it wasn’t any bigger than his own shirts, really, but it was longer and at least stretched to cover him to the bottom of his burgeoning bump.

When Louis entered the small bistro – one he’d passed many times before, but had never actually patroned – he felt a little ridiculous.  He wasn’t exactly sure why he was there and he was uncomfortable and exposed in his ill-fitting clothing and the place was packed at that time of morning; it was all almost enough to make him spin right back around and spend the rest of the day in bed.

But then he remembered Harry’s note – his sweet, thoughtful husband who was working his ass off to try and get a business off the ground and take care of their young daughter and his quickly ballooning partner and… well, it was worth risking looking like an idiot for a moment.

“It’s about a 45 minute wait for breakfast right now,” the slightly exasperated hostess said to him as he approached the table.

Louis wanted to make some snide remark about how that would basically push it to lunchtime at this point, but he’d worked jobs like this before.  He knew it wasn’t her fault.  “Uhm, I think maybe there might be a reservation?  For me?”  God, at least he hoped there was.

She immediately stuck her nose in her clipboard.  “Name?”

“Louis.”  Then, remembering Harry’s specific instructions, added, “William Tomlinson-Styles.”  He wasn’t sure whether the middle name was necessary, but Harry _had_ specified the necessity to use his _full_ name.

“Oh!”  She popped her head up to look at him more closely.  “You’re Harry’s husband?”  He nodded, now a little suspicious.  “Come, come – follow me.  Oh, look at that bump you’re sporting,” she cooed as they broke out of the crowded foyer and began crossing the dining area.  “How far along?”

He thought it a bit presumptuous for her to assume he was expecting, and was tempted to have a bit of fun with her.  But, if she was a friend of Harry’s – one who may very well be doing him a favor at this very moment – he didn’t want to ruin it with his usual snarky self.  “Ehm, yeah.  ‘Bout 16 weeks this one’s been cooking.”

“Oh, is that all?”  Alright, now Louis was about to have words with this woman.  But before he could say anything, they paused and she spun around.  “Here we are – enjoy!”

Louis huffed a bit as he plopped down into the chair and she walked off un-reprimanded.  So annoyed was he by the hostess’s lack of tact that he almost missed the beautiful display before him.  There was a vase of yellow roses on the table – no doubt Harry’s doing, as all of the other tables seemed to hold carnations of various shades – and a piping ceramic pot that he could already identify by the smell as Yorkshire tea, as well as a letter addressed to him in Harry’s distinctive blocky script.

Before he could reach for the envelope, a waiter approached his table – a middle-aged gentleman with kind eyes and an unobtrusive demeanor.  “Welcome, Mr. Tomlinson- _Styles_.”  The way he said it implied that he, too, had some sort of history with Louis’ husband.  “Per instructions, we have already prepared a fresh pot of Yorkshire tea for you – decaf, of course.  Is there anything else you’d like to drink before I come back to take your order?”  Louis shook his head – just the smell of the tea was divinely intoxicating enough.  “In that case, peruse the menu at your leisure, and I will be back in a few minutes.”  He began to pivot, then remembered something else.  “And, Mr. Styles has requested that you refrain from opening his message to you until the end of the meal.”  With that, he was off.

Louis pursed his lips in indecision.  Why would Harry want him to wait until after he’d eaten to read the letter?  This was stupid – it’s not like he’d ever know.  Still… he would feel guilty for going against the plan when Harry had gone through all this trouble just to set it up.

In an attempt to distract himself from the tempting words at his fingertips, Louis snatched up the menu.  And immediately regretted it.  There were about 14 pages of items, half of which he couldn’t even pronounce, much less identify.  And with his stomach still being as iffy as it had been, he didn’t want to risk anything too exotic.

By about page three, he’d had enough of trying to decipher the damned menu – his mind wasn’t focused on the words anyway – and succumbed to his lack of self control, ripping open the letter that was sitting so temptingly in the center of the table, eyes poring over the first words on the page.

_I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait until the end of the meal._

“Fuck you,” Louis muttered to himself with a fond smile.

_And because I knew you would not be able to wait – nor that you would have the patience to read through the entirety of the menu – here is my list of recommendation of the best options that are least likely to upset our little avocado._

Louis rolled his eyes, both because he loved and hated that Harry knew him so well, and also because he continued to refer to their child by whatever fruit or vegetable it was supposed to be the size of at any given time.  Despite the temptation to just pick something wildly unexpected off the menu – just to have an excuse to contradict Harry’s presumptions – he had to admit that the options his husband chose for him sounded pretty damn good.

“I’ll have the biscuits and sausage gravy,” Louis decided when the waiter came back.  “And a side of fruit,” he added, feeling the need to include something at least a little healthy, even if he ended up not eating it.

“Of course.  Should be out shortly.”  He took the novel-sized menu from the table and left Louis to his thoughts.  Which inevitably drifted back to the note.

Well, it was already opened…

_My love, there is a reason you’re here.  This is a very special place to me, and I think it’s about time you knew why.  Look out the window, across the street._

Although he felt a bit silly, following the instructions of someone who was not actually there, Louis obliged.  It took a few moments – he was easily distracted by all the hustle and bustle of morning activity – but eventually he saw it.  The coffee shop where they first met.

_This is where it all happened.  It was at this very spot, from this very window, that I first laid eyes on you.  I very nearly dropped the tray of water glasses I was carrying – you can ask Benny (the man who should be seeing to your table); he was there that day._

Louis took in his surroundings with greater reverence.  He had known Harry worked on this block up until the moment they’d met, but they’d never discussed where.  The large glass exterior of the coffee shop made it easy to watch the long line of customers winding their way around the perimeter, even from this angle.

Harry had stood – likely where Benny had just been – and at that time, before Louis even knew yet if he was capable of loving another, had decided that pursuing him was worth risking everything he had.  A part of Louis wondered, knowing everything he knew now, whether Harry would make the same choice again.

He got his answer as he finished the letter.

_I’m fairly certain it was at that moment that my heart truly started beating for the first time.  I’ve told you before how I couldn’t help but walk right out of here because I couldn’t stand not being close to you for a single second longer.  It was terrifying at the time, my heart overwhelming and overriding every rational instinct in my brain._

_But I don’t regret it for a second because it was so worth it.  That moment, in this spot… this is where my life really began.  Boldness – this is the first lesson your love ever taught me.  That alone would have been enough for a lifetime, but you have taught me so much more.  I ask that you, too, would take another leap of faith and stop by the coffee stand in Windemere Park.  Again, be sure to give your FULL name, Mr. Tomlinson-Styles._

So Harry didn’t regret the choices that had led them to this place.  That was… good to know.  On some level, Louis always knew that Harry would choose him again and again.  But it didn’t hurt to see the words written out so eloquently.

Louis almost didn’t want to bother with the breakfast he’d just ordered.  He was too anxious to see what insights this next stop on the treasure map held.  But… well, honestly he was starving.  And, though he’d never admit it to Harry, his recommendation was one of the best goddamn things he’d ever eaten.

After breakfast – which had conveniently been on-the-house – Louis made his way to the park near where they used to live.  As he ambled up to the little mobile coffee cart just inside the entrance, he felt slightly less unprepared and preposterous than he had at the restaurant.  He had an idea what to expect now.  Or, at least he thought he did.

“Hi, uhm… do you possibly have something for me?” he asked the extremely bored-looking barista.

“Dunno.  Did you order?” she drawled with a roll of her eyes – they both knew he hadn’t.

Louis’ cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but at least _this_ rude serviceperson hadn’t commented on his size, so he soldiered on.  “Something for, um, Louis William Tomlinson-Styles?” he tried again, following the instructions to again give his full name.

A spark of recognition flashed in her eyes, though no subsequent enthusiasm at participating in this little game followed.  “Please hold.”  She disappeared behind the bar for a few minutes and came back with some sort of milky iced drink, thrusting it out to him over the counter.  When Louis simply stared at it, she shook the contents so the cubes rattled against the plastic sides in a beckoning call.

“Is this it?”  Louis took the cup and examined the contents, but nothing seemed particularly romantic or thought-provoking about the gesture.

“It’s already paid for?” she suggested in answer to his question.  “Have a nice day,” she called, only mildly insincerely, as he turned back toward the main walking path.

Louis popped open the lid and sniffed at the contents – iced chai tea latte.  He would know that smell anywhere.  It was Harry’s drink of choice – he had always loved the combination of flavors, and had even used them as inspiration for several of his pastry innovations.

It wasn’t until he more closely examined the cup in his hand that he noticed the extra lettering scrawled onto the cup’s paper sleeve:  _Walk about 10 meters into the park and take a right.  There will be a bench overlooking a small pond.  Take a seat.  Enjoy some reading material._

It took a little longer than it should have to find the bench – the actual distance was probably more than twice the specified amount, but Harry had always been terrible at estimating distances.  Or maybe Louis was just better than average due to his many years of traversing up and down the football pitch.

He plopped down onto the seat, all too aware of the slight give in the wood as his pregnant ass put his full weight down on it.  It was peaceful there, a slight breeze coming off the water and a little family of ducks swishing their paddle feet around in the shallows.  He breathed in the fresh air, which held a promise of the warmth of spring.

Out of habit, Louis brought the straw to his lips and sucked in a long pull of the contents of the cup.  When the liquid hit his tongue he froze, expecting to gag immediately – he wasn’t a fan of the concoction on a normal day, much less with his currently temperamental digestive system – but was surprised to find how smoothly it went down his throat.

When his stomach didn’t protest, he took another experimental sip, delighted that it went down just as pleasantly as the first time.  Although he thought he’d read somewhere about your tastebuds changing due to pregnancy hormones – or possibly even just good old fashioned cravings – Louis chose to believe that his current affinity for the drink was simply this child’s way of letting him know just how much of its father was in its genetic makeup.

So, another little Harry clone then.  Louis patted his tummy as he sucked greedily at the divine concoction – he could live with that.

It was only when he was done with his new favorite drink that he remembered that there was probably another letter somewhere around here for him.  He twisted around a little bit, but nothing jumped out at him.  When he spread his legs, though, he saw a square of paper fitted against the slots underneath the bench.

“Cruel, making a pregnant person reach around over their middle like this,” Louis muttered as he attempted to lean forward enough to tug the envelope free from its hiding spot.  It took a few tries – and a bit of colorful cursing – but finally Louis was victorious and any bitterness he’d felt at having to retrieve the item melted away as his eyes raked over the contents of Harry’s second letter.

_Louis –_

_This is where I was the very first time you told me that you loved me.  Well, to be more precise, I was a few meters back – but this is where I ended up after you sprung that declaration on me and my legs were suddenly in danger of collapsing on me.  If you recall, we were having quite the tiff over the phone, you and I – not uncommon in those days.  The subject of that disagreement escapes me, though – long forgotten and overwritten by those three little words that slipped out when your guard was down in the heat of anger._

Harry might not have remembered what they were arguing about, but Louis certainly did.  They were supposed to go out to dinner that evening, and Harry was late.  He found out later that it was because Harry had planned to surprise him with a picnic under the stars, but decided to run back home to retrieve the oversized sweatshirt that was Louis’ favorite to steal because he knew he’d get cold.  He must have cut through the park as a shortcut when Louis had called him to berate him for his tardiness.

Only… Louis wasn’t actually mad.  He was panicked.  Harry had always, always kept his word to Louis – he knew how important that was in order to build the necessary trust between them – and when he didn’t show up, Louis thought something horrible must have happened.  At that time in his life, he almost expected for things to go to shit at any moment because that’s what had always happened.  Anytime he thought he was happy and safe and content, fate always found a way to slip in unexpectedly and destroy all the optimistic plans he never realized he was allowing himself to make.

And so he had assumed it was only a matter of time before something tore away the most important person in his life, the best thing that had ever happened to him.  When Harry answered Louis’ frantic phone call, though, his worry immediately took the form of rage.  It was an extreme overreaction – which was probably why Harry couldn’t remember what it was about, since he hadn’t actually done anything wrong – but somewhere in between yelling about how Harry could have been dead in a ditch somewhere and threatening to leave his inconsiderate ass there if he was, the words ‘I love you’ finally came tumbling out in his need for Harry to understand why Louis had every right to be so upset.

Not the most eloquent confession he’d ever made, but there was a reason Louis wasn’t the one leaving little love notes for his partner all over the damn city.  When his eyes returned to the letter in his lap, he was surprised to find a few wet spatters smearing the ink and pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, as if he could stem the flow of tears in the same way you could blood from a wound.

Damn hormones.

It took a few seconds for his vision to clear, but eventually he could refocus on Harry’s precious words.

_No poetry, no music, nothing in the entire world had ever sounded so beautiful as those three words coming from your lips, and I’m fairly certain that in that moment my heart stopped completely.  It was terrifying at the time, because I was certain that one day you would wake up and know just how fucking amazing you are in every way, and you would realize that you could do so much better than me.  But now that I’d had a taste of those sweet words on your tongue, I was certain that hearing them again and again would be the only thing to KEEP my heart beating._

_Trust – this was the second lesson your love taught me.  Because despite whatever emotions might show on the surface, I learned that an undercurrent of love is at the heart of everything we do for each other.  I may have lost sight of that over the past few months, but it never went away.  It was simply buried beneath layers of hurt and grief – I just had to be paying enough attention to listen for it._

_I’m listening now, my love.  And if you still love me as much as you did on that day, I would ask that you continue to seek yet another piece of my heart that I’ve left for you to find.  It will be waiting for you at the stadium in seat 18HH.  Of course, you will have to give your full name to the security guard at the front entrance._

Louis couldn’t get to his feet fast enough.

It was well into the afternoon by the time he pulled into the parking lot where he’d spent many a weekend – though the field was usually occupied by the local division teams, they also opened it up for recreational use in the off-months, and Louis’ reputation often earned his team first priority in booking the space.  It didn’t hurt that his status was still such that many of the more hardcore fans would come out to watch him play.

Harry was, of course, always one of those fans.

The security guard knew perfectly well who Louis was, but still insisted that he announce himself before he let him pass.  Louis was beginning to suspect that this was part of Harry’s plan – to constantly remind Louis of the vows they’d made to each other that had bonded their names together in the first place.

When he hefted himself up the stairs and angled himself awkwardly down the appropriate aisle, Louis saw another letter taped to the seat numbered 18.  Well, at least he wouldn’t have to bend down to reach this one.

After removing the envelope, Louis sat down and took in the familiar sights and scents of his old stomping ground.  It was an odd mixture of nature and industry, the smell of grass and dirt mingling with the tang of metal and stale food.  His view was usually one from the field looking up, but this was what Harry would have seen.  Though he was on the other side of it now, Louis recognized this area of the stands – his eyes automatically seeking out the spot whenever anything significant happened in the game so that he could share in the moment with the one person he wanted to share everything with.

His thoughts seemed to echo in the musings Harry had penned in his third letter to Louis.

_Louis –_

_It was in this very seat when I realized that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.  It was the championship game for whatever team happened to be lucky enough to have you at the time.  I think you might have won that game, but what I really remember was the feeling I got just watching you play.  You were, and still are, a walking contradiction – powerful and graceful, crude and gentle, soft and unyielding.  Every time I thought I had you figured out, I would discover something new and equally fascinating._

Louis snorted – he very much suspected that this particular trait that would drive most normal people crazy.  Half the time Louis himself could not figure out what was going on in his head; Harry, it seemed, found that endearing.  Ironically, it was the very antithesis of the thing Louis loved about Harry, who was as easy to read as one of Rose’s board books.  Well, he supposed the whole ‘opposites attract’ rule had some merit.

_Surprise – this was the third lesson your love taught me.  I realized that day that you were a beautiful mystery that I would never fully figure out, but that I would gladly spend the rest of my days trying to.  (The tiny running shorts didn’t hurt the decision-making process either.)_

Louis made note of this preference – he was pretty sure he still had those short-shorts buried in the back of one of his drawers.  Although his body was not at its peak athleticism, he was fairly certain Harry would still enjoy the sight of his extra curves in them.  Louis had to shake himself out of this thought spiral before he turned Harry’s sweet gesture into something dirty.

_It was terrifying at the time to realize that my heart in fact no longer belonged to me – it was in your hands.  But… then I realized that it hadn’t belonged to me in quite some time, and since being in your care it had grown so much that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to put it back even if I tried._

_I bought a ring the next day._

Louis sighed as he looked down at the golden band on his left hand, wondering if his fingers would soon be too swollen to wear it.  If they were anything like the rest of his body, he highly suspected so.

_My love, there is one final stop on this journey – an ending awaiting at the beginning.  I want nothing more than to make good on the decision I made in this seat all those years ago.  If you want the same, I request that you go to the address below and give your full name at the front desk._

At first, Louis didn’t recognize the address as he put it into his GPS.  As he came upon the place, though, he didn’t need another letter from Harry to recognize its significance.  He was being guided right to the botanical gardens, where their unattended wedding reception was held even though they weren’t able to hold the ceremony there.

Once the receptionist guided him down several hallways and through several doors, he expected another letter to await him.  Instead, the final door through which he was ushered led him to an entirely whimsical butterfly garden. 

It was like something straight out of a movie – the hundreds, maybe even thousands of winged creatures in every color and pattern imaginable swarming up and around him, as if clearing his steps as he walked down the narrow pathway.  It almost hurt his head to try and take in all the details of the shifting mosaic, but still he could not tear his eyes away from the sight.

When he reached the end of the aisle, there was a small clearing – a table and chairs set aside from the attractive plants to give viewers an area just to observe and take in their beauty.  It was here that Louis expected to find a final letter from his husband, but instead what he found was Harry himself.  Louis almost didn’t see him at first – he blended in with the exotic scenery around him in a loud floral suit that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else in any other place.

Louis practically collapsed in Harry’s arms when he reached him, but Harry’s grip was strong and steadfast and easily took control enough to lower him gently into one of the metal seats.

“You came,” he breathed, resting his forehead against Louis’.

There was a trace of disbelief in his voice, and Louis was again struck dumb by the realization that Harry still believed _he_ was the lucky one in this partnership.  “Of course.  I… got your letters.”  He flushed at the memory of all the tender confessions sealed in those words, and Harry reached out to brush his thumb across his reddening cheeks.  Harry’s lips ghosted across his temple, then down his jaw, and Louis very much suspected that if Harry didn’t get on with whatever this was, and soon, that Louis would not be satisfied with mere words.  “Is there another one?” he prompted when Harry continued his path down Louis’ neck.  He almost regretted asking when Harry pulled away suddenly and stood back up, composed as if nothing had happened while Louis was left a panting mess – though there was the remnant of a smirk left on his face when he spoke.

“You know, I’ve always had a thing for butterflies.”  Louis could have guessed as much from the large tattoo permanently stenciled into his torso.  “They’re beautiful and look so delicate, but they’re stronger than they appear.  They start out as one thing, but then break down and just dissolve completely into this gooey mess in their cocoons.  Scientists still don’t know how they do it really – there’s no, like, instructions for how to reassemble themselves – but somehow, they take the broken sea of pieces of their former selves and stitch themselves back up into something even more beautiful than they were before.  Something… freer.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve metamorphosed, Haz?” Louis teased, because it was easier than admitting that his words caused something very much like the butterflies he was describing to erupt in his stomach.

Harry, unfazed by the remark, continued on in seriousness.  “Honestly, I’ve felt like a butterfly at every stage with you, Louis – every letter I left you was a place and time when I felt like my life had radically changed in the best possible way.  Because of you.  Because you have always had the power to make me feel more, _be_ more than I ever was before.”  He ran a hand through his hair and pinched his bottom lip nervously between his thumb and forefinger before finding the courage to continue.  “And just like all those times, I’m scared now too.”  There was so much he was scared of – of losing Louis and his daughter, of losing another baby.  He was also scared of keeping them but then not being strong enough to make them feel happy and loved like they deserved.

Harry had choked on his words, and Louis rose to stand in front of him.  He took one of Harry’s hands and brought it to his lips, kissing his palm.  “I’m scared too,” he admitted, choosing to match Harry’s vulnerability.

Harry nodded and squeezed the hand that Louis held.  “But… I also realize now that that’s a good thing – because every good thing that’s happened in my life has come after fear.  Fear means it’s important – it means it matters.  So even though I’m afraid, I’m all in.  I’m all in with you, Lou.  I want all of you, forever, everyday.”  He took in a shuddering breath.  “This is where we were supposed to get married; that didn’t end up happening, so now this will be the place,” Harry got down on one knee, one of Louis’ hands still clutched in his, “where I ask if you would please do me the honor… of staying married to me.”

He wanted to mock Harry for being cheesy and being a romantic sap and for quoting The Notebook at a time like this… but his brain was busy screaming an endless chorus of _yesyesyesyes, a thousand times yes_.  His mouth, however, was not on board and seemed unable to form words.  He could only fishmouth for several infinite seconds until the only answer he could muster was a fountain of tears springing forth from his eyes.

Harry sprung up from his crouched position and pulled Louis into his arms, tucked him tenderly into his side, whispering reassurances.  “It’s okay.  I’m sorry.  I love you – always love you.”  When, after several minutes, Louis still hadn’t calmed down, a different kind of fear began to tug at Harry’s heart.  “You don’t- you don’t have to say yes.”

Louis smacked him hard on the chest once, twice.  “Shut.  Up,” he finally got out between hiccupping coughs.  “Of.  Course.  I.  Will.”  He punctuated each word with more blows, though they were softer this time, more playful.  “L-love y-you,” he added.

Placated for the time being, Harry was content to just hold him now until he got his breathing under control.  Once he did, Harry tilted his chin up so that he could look into his now bloodshot eyes.  “Alright now, love?”

Louis’ chest was still spasming erratically, but he had enough control to form a light scowl.  “You can’t just say shit like that to a pregnant person,” he finally pouted.

Harry’s answering laugh was just as sputtering and breathless as Louis’ cries and pretty soon they were both dissolving into a mixture of both.  Harry really was like something out a goddamn fairytale, and for the first time in far too long, Louis believed that they might actually end up with their promised happily ever after.


	14. The Multiplication Problem

For all that Harry did over the next several weeks to show his support for and joy over this pregnancy, Louis still worried that all these warm fuzzy feelings could change at a moment’s notice.  So he worried when Harry stayed by his side when he threw back up most of the things he ate.  He worried when Harry came home with bags of clothing from the maternity store and newborn onesie outfits.  And he worried when they finally scheduled their first ultrasound.

They couldn’t put it off any longer, really, much as Louis would have preferred to.  He had only managed this long because his first pregnancy had gone without complication and none of his tests or measurements had indicated that this one would be any different.

There was a little wiggle room, though, and Louis tried to push the scheduling out another couple weeks, reasoning that the date Harry had picked would be too hectic since the doors of his new bakery would be opening only a few days later, but Harry had insisted.  Both their families would be there for the metaphorical ribbon cutting, and Harry wanted to be able to make a formal announcement at that time – it wasn’t like Louis would be able to hide his sizeable bump for very long in the sea of well-wishers anyway.

Which was how Louis found himself propped up on an exam table for his mid-pregnancy appointment a solid week before he was technically at the halfway point.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his baby or hear its heartbeat or find out if it was a girl or boy, it was just… this would make it all so much more real.  And honestly, he wasn’t sure how Harry was going to react to that.

Louis wanted to believe that Harry was really in this now – he knew Harry himself believed it when he made that declaration – but up until this point he was still fairly removed from the small human occupying Louis’ womb.  Seeing it on the scan – a milestone that Harry never got to reach – just might crack whatever foundation had only just recently been poured between them.

Dr. Reid took samples of his bodily fluids and took measurements of his bodily functions and asked him the same questions she had at every previous consultation.  She made a noise of mild interest at the fact that he was still plagued by nausea and vomiting, but didn’t express any outright concern.

Harry had already been through all that with Louis at the handful of appointment he’d had thus far, but then she began preparations for the ultrasound and Louis was a ball of nerves.  Harry seemed fine – excited and anxious, but in a good way – and gave Louis an encouraging smile, kissing the hand that was clutched in his as the doctor squirted gel on his tummy and flicked on the machine beside them.

The quick whoosh of the heartbeat filled the room first, and Louis really should have been looking where everyone else in the room was looking – at the screen, at his child – but he was too preoccupied with trying to study Harry’s face, to interpret his reaction and brace himself for any kind of trouble that may be brewing.

“Oh my god!” Harry exclaimed, looking between Louis’ exposed stomach and the screen with wide eyes.

“Hmm,” Dr. Reid hummed, raising an eyebrow.  “I suppose at this point, I should come to expect the unexpected when it comes to you, Mr. Tomlinson.  And yet, you continue to surprise me.”

 “What?  What are you—“  Because Louis hadn’t been looking at the same image as the other two, he was half a second behind when his eyes finally flicked over to the black and white screen.  When they did, he was fairly certain that his heart rate shot up to match pace with the swift rhythm that was still echoing around them.  “Is that—“

“Twins,” Dr. Reid confirmed.

“It’s her,” Harry said, clearly in awe while Louis was in shock.  “Lou, it’s her.” 

If Louis had been in his right mind, he would have snarked a question about when the hell Harry had learned to interpret a sonogram.  What came out instead was a delirious half-syllable, “Wha—?”

“Our baby girl, Lou.  She—I thought we lost her, but I was wrong.  She’s here – she’s right here!”  He tapped on the glass of the monitor for emphasis.

Louis turned to Dr. Reid for help, as if she could make any sense of what Harry was talking about.  But although hers was much better hidden, she was looking at Harry with the same confusion Louis felt.  “Ehm, that’s exactly right, Harry.  Baby A over here,” she pointed to the bottom-left side of the screen, “is in fact a little lady.  Would you like to know the sex of Baby B as well?”

Louis was too dumbfounded to speak, but Harry was ready with an answer.  “Yes, yes.  We- shit, ‘Baby B’.”  He smacked a hand against his forehead and shook his head, then cleared his throat and refocused on the doctor’s face.  “Yes,” he said with more confidence.

“Another girl,” she said with a smile.  “Looks like you two are about to be outnumbered.”

She’d said it in jest, but god she was right in every sense of the word.  Not only were the women about to outnumber the men in the house, but the number of children were going to outnumber the parents.  How the hell were they going to do this?  But even before they got to that part, how was _Louis_ going to do this?  Although he would never admit it aloud, he was, in fact, rather small, and his body had had a hard enough time accommodating one growing child.  Would he even be able to carry them?  And… and what about complications?  He was pretty sure multiples came with a greater risk of complications. 

God, _multiples._

They only had about half a nursery at home as it was – they were going to need to buy twice as many things.  And as successful as he knew the bakery would be, Louis wasn’t naïve enough to believe that a new business would turn a profit anytime soon.  And even if all of that were not an issue, he remembered the exhaustion of those first few months with Rose.  There were many tempers lost due to sleepless nights and self-doubt.  How much worse would it be with two of them plus their firstborn?

These thoughts all came crashing down on Louis like an avalanche, making him feel just as trapped, just as paralyzed.  His head was spinning and his heart was hammering and it was a damn good thing he was lying down because he swore he saw stars dance across his vision.

“Louis, are you alright?” Dr. Reid prompted as her normally golden-skinned patient paled considerably.

“What is it, Lou?” Harry echoed, finally tearing his eyes away from their babies to look at his husband.

Instead of answering, Louis stumbled off the table and fell to his knees in the other corner of the small room, depositing what little food he’d managed to get into his stomach that morning into the trashcan.  “Fuck,” he whispered, breathing heavily and spitting out a few remnants of breakfast that had gotten caught behind his teeth.

Harry had followed Louis and crouched down to put a comforting hand to his back, but became concerned when Louis continued to shake even after he was done coughing.  “Are you okay?”  Louis closed his eyes and kept a white-knuckled grip on the waste bin, and Harry leaned forward to whisper directly into his ear.  “Is… is _this_ not okay?”

Fuck no this wasn’t okay.  This… this was all kinds of wrong.  Louis had thought he’d gotten over their unexpected reversal of roles, but was once again hit with an overwhelming feeling of _it wasn’t supposed to happen like this._ He should have been happy and excited and grateful but it was all drowned out by terror and uncertainty.

“Louis, please.  Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”  Harry curled his palm around the back of Louis’ neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the rapidly pulsing vein beneath it.  “What are you thinking?”

Not entirely sure how to answer that question – and sensing the poorly disguised hurt evident in Harry’s questions – Louis grabbed onto the first non-negative thought that came to mind.  “How did you know they were girls?”

Harry hummed in thought and pulled Louis back into his arms.  “I didn’t; not from the scan.  Just… when I lost the baby, I thought- I thought I’d never get to meet that little girl.  And then you got pregnant and… and I had to learn how to love this new child.  But now- god, don’t you see?  They’re both in there – my little girl and yours.”  Louis looked back at his husband with a bewildered expression.  “I know, it—I must sound insane.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh and Louis reached back to cup his cheek.  Yes, to Louis the idea that he was somehow carrying both his child and the one they’d lost nearly six months ago sounded completely bonkers.  But… the way Harry was speaking, the way he was looking at Louis – it was like a piece of his heart had shifted back into place, like a dislocated shoulder popping back into joint, and the undercurrent of sadness that usually accompanied his talk of Louis’ pregnancy had disappeared.

If this was how Harry wanted to process and move on from his grief, then who was Louis to say he was wrong?

“It’s just… it’s a lot,” Louis finally said, forcing a smile that did a decent job of hiding the emotional turmoil wreaking havoc on his thoughts.

“Everything okay down here?” Dr. Reid piped in, leaning over the pair who were still kneeling together on the tile floor.  Harry looked to Louis for an answer, and he nodded.  “I suspect we’ve found the culprit for your persistent morning sickness – more babies means more hormones that your body isn’t used to dealing with.”

Louis nodded again and allowed himself to be lifted to his feet by two sets of arms and guided back over to the examination table.  In the mad rush, his shirt had fallen back over his slicked up stomach, leaving both the article of clothing and his skin a sticky mess of fuzz and goop.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, peeling back the soiled fabric and snagging a few tissues to try and clean himself up.

Dr. Reid chuckled and assisted in re-prepping him for continuing the diagnostic test that had been interrupted.  “Trust me, you’re not the first expectant parent to toss their cookies in this room.  It’s no big deal – everything about having babies, from conception to birth, is a bit of a messy business.”

Louis wrinkled his nose in disgust, but his subsequent frown resulted from a previous concern bubbling up to the surface at her words.  “Are they going to have to cut me open?” he asked softly, keeping his eyes focused on the two little wiggling shapes on the screen to remind himself why it would be worth it.  “To get them out?”  His childhood had landed him in the hospital – and under the knife – more times than most people would experience in several lifetimes; though this would probably be a little different, an innate sense of unease still carried the thought.

Harry squeezed Louis’ hand and gave him a slightly apologetic look.  In his excitement, he hadn’t really thought about the practical implications of having two babies.  Of course Louis had, though – he lived in the rational world while Harry had his head stuck in the clouds.

“Not necessarily,” Dr. Reid answered.  “With twins, you would be allowed to schedule a cesarean section, if that were your preference, but based on your history I don’t see why you couldn’t have a perfectly successful natural delivery too.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” Harry was quick to assure him.

Louis had to suppress a groan – none of his options sounded particularly appealing.  “They look okay?” he asked, changing the subject and directing everyone’s attention back to the grainy images of their unborn daughters.

“Got a few more notes to make and measurements to take, but yes, they both appear to be right on track.  As soon as we’re done here, I’ll print you two off some pictures of your little ones and send you on your way.  Sound good?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, but Louis leaned back fully, closing his eyes and desperately trying to tame the wild thoughts that were trying to gain control over how he felt about the situation.

“Twins,” Harry whispered again on their way to Liam and Niall’s house to pick up their daughter.  It was about the hundredth time he’d said it, and Louis had to gnash his teeth together to keep any sounds of annoyance from escaping.  “Guess Rosie’s going to get her wish,” he mused, unbuckling his seatbelt as they parked in the driveway.  He was about to pull open his door when he realized Louis still hadn’t moved.  Harry reached across the console and rested a hand on Louis’ thigh.  “What’s wrong?  Are you still feeling nauseous?”

Yes, but those were two separate questions, and at the moment the answers were unrelated.  “I’m okay.”  It wasn’t particularly convincing, but neither had time to dig any deeper into the response because a dimpled little girl had come bounding out of the house and was pressing her nose to the car window.

“Papa!  Daddy!” she squealed, pulling at the door handle but unable to get it open.

Afraid that Rose would hurt herself, Harry jumped out of the driver’s seat and repositioned her out of the radius of the car door as he opened it for Louis.  “Hello, my love.”  Harry bent down to give her a hug, which she returned briefly until Louis was upright beside her, at which point she spun around and threw her arms around his legs.

“Hi, papa, hi, baby,” she said, pressing her lips gently to Louis’ tummy before resting her cheek there and continuing to talk to it.  “I wanted to see you today, but daddy said we’d be there so long and I’d get bored but I wouldn’t get bored because I’m a good big sister and I’d watch out for you even when papa’s not paying attention because sometimes he forgets what he’s doing but I wouldn’t and –“

“Oi!” Louis said in protest, scooping Rose up and scowling playfully at her.  “Keep it up and I may just _forget_ to give you dessert tonight.”

“Daddy will remind you,” Rose said in all seriousness, blinking up at him innocently while Harry coughed to cover up his laughter.

“ _I’d_ never forget to give my favorite girl dessert,” Niall said as he and Liam joined the party.

“Still trying to buy my daughter’s love?” Harry teased, taking Rose from Louis’ arms when he saw him wincing in discomfort. 

Although holding her was straining his back a bit, the fact that Louis was having trouble with it elicited a wave of sadness that took him off guard.  It was only going to get harder in the coming months – the last few months they’d have with Rose as the center of their world – and he didn’t like that there would likely be limitations on how he could spend them.

Liam noted the rapidly shifting moods in his best friend with concern.  “How did the appointment go?”

Instead of letting loose the torrent of anxiety building in him, Louis relaxed his expression into something more of a smirk.  “Oh no, you’re not getting any information out of me.  You already have a one-up in knowing about the pregnancy, but you’re gonna have to wait until Saturday to find out what we’re having like everyone else.”

Liam easily saw through his false bravado, but didn’t have time to comment before Niall started whining.  “Aww come on!  I’ll even start a betting pool and cut you in on half.  Please?  Pleasepleaseplease?”

Louis’ jaw clicked tightly shut and his eyes became glassy.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us anything,” Liam said, shooting Niall a warning glance not to push the issue.  He pouted a bit, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Louis’ stomach as if he could see into it for himself, but didn’t comment further.  “But you can, if… if you need to talk.”  Liam knew this ultrasound was an important one – most people focused on the fact that you could find out the sex, but they also ran tests for potential problems and abnormalities, and he was beginning to worry about the underlying cause of Louis’ erratic attitude.

Something was clearly bothering his husband, and although Harry wanted to be the one that Louis confided in, he seemed hesitant to do so.  He chalked it up to the fact that they were still rebuilding the trust that had been lost between them, and tried not to be too hurt by it.  For now, he would let Louis reach out to whoever could provide whatever it was he needed right now.

“How about you and I take uncle Niall to go pick up some food and then all of us come back here and have dinner together – how does that sound?” Harry asked the four-year-old in his arms.

“Can we?” she squeaked, looking between Niall and her father.

“I’m not gonna say no to food.”  Rose made a disgruntled sound and Niall stepped up to sandwich her between his body and Harry’s.  “Or to you, princess,” he added.  “Although you do look pretty tasty too – maybe I’ll just have _you_ for dinner!”  He made a show of pretending to chow down on her arm and she wriggled out from the tangle of adult arms and bodies to be chased around the small front yard.

“Children,” Liam muttered with an eye roll, referring to both Rose and his fiancé.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Louis asked, looking up at Harry with a slightly guilty expression.

“Of course not.”  Harry leaned down to kiss Louis lightly and pressed their foreheads together.  “Take as much time as you need.  To… catch up.”  His eyes bored into Louis’ in silent communication – giving him permission to reveal to Liam as much or as little as he wanted about their situation – and Louis nodded.  “Good.  See you soon.”  He pecked Louis once more on the nose and jogged off to try and wrangle the children into his car.

Liam allowed the silence to persist long enough for him to make two cups of tea, but once they were settled on the couch with only the occasional clink of glasses to disturb the quiet, he finally piped up – he had never been very good about waiting for someone else to make the first move anyway.  “Is something wrong, Lou?”  In response, Louis simply continued absently stirring circles in his cup with his spoon.  “Is it Harry?”  Their brief interaction outside had seemed okay, but Liam knew looks could be deceiving – especially when it came to those two.  “Is it the baby?”

Louis dropped the utensil and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, dropping his head and cradling it in his hands as he attempted to hold back the wracking sobs he could already feel building up in his body.  He wanted to answer, really, he just… he didn’t know how.  It was all of those things, in a way, but they were all getting mixed up and rearranged in his brain and he couldn’t seem to figure out which emotions went with which thoughts.

“Li-“ he whimpered pitifully, but it was all he could get out before the sound was choked off in his throat and he began to tremble with the wave of overwhelm crashing into him.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay.”  Liam gathered Louis into his arms and pulled the throw from the back of the couch to wrap around them.  “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.  We’ll get through it.” 

Louis was grateful that Liam didn’t try to tell him everything was going to work out alright – he had learned the hard way that that was often an empty promise.  Survival was a more realistic goal.

It was several more minutes before Louis regained enough control to breathe properly.  “Just like old times, eh?” he finally asked with a weak laugh, looking up at Liam and shrugging.

“As sneaky as Niall thinks he is, I know where he hides the chocolate?” Liam suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.  Normally Louis would jump at the chance to bury his feelings under a mountain of sugar, but as a testament to how out of sorts he truly was, he shook his head.  Liam sighed.  “Talk to me, Lou.”  He couldn’t help if he didn’t know what was wrong.

“It’s a girl,” Louis blurted out, which caused a wide smile to break out across Liam’s face.  “And another girl.”

Liam nodded, having missed a most important conjunction.  “Another girl – Rose is going to be thrilled.”  Then, remembering that something about this knowledge had made Louis upset, asked, “Is… is she okay?  Did the doctor say something was wrong with her?  Or with you?”  Liam began talking a mile a minute, asking one question after another without actually giving Louis time to answer.

“it’s nothing like that – she’s fine.  They’re _both_ fine.”

Liam put a hand to his chest dramatically and narrowed his eyes at Louis.  “Well if you’re both fine, you should have said so instead of nearly giving me a heart attack.”

Louis practically growled in frustration at yet another misinterpretation.  “No.  Li, you’re not _listening_ to me.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re not _saying_ anything.”

“I’m trying, but you won’t shut up!”  To counter Louis’ point, Liam simply stared at him in expectant silence.  Louis, however, couldn’t seem to find his voice and instead continued to prove Liam’s point.  “Here,” he finally said by way of explanation, fishing out one of the ultrasound photos from his pocket and slapping it onto Liam’s lap.

Although he couldn’t look at him, Louis knew the exact moment when the realization clicked in Liam’s brain, given away by the swift intake of breath and small jolt of surprise that caused his body to jerk back.  “Twins.”  It wasn’t a question, but Louis nodded anyway.  Liam replayed the last few minutes in his head and filled in the parts that his ears had skipped over the first time.  “Twin girls.”  Again, Louis nodded. 

“I want to be happy about this,” Louis confessed.  The guilt over the fact that he wasn’t was eating him up inside.  “I mean, I’m supposed to be happy about this, right?”  He wasn’t sure he’d wanted a baby at first… and now he wasn’t sure he wanted another baby either.  God, how fucked up was he?  “I don’t deserve this.”  Louis meant that he didn’t deserve to be entrusted with the gift of life, but the fact that he was being unfairly saddled with this burden was also true.

“How does Harry feel about all this?”  He sincerely hoped that Harry had taken the news about a second child better than he had about the first.

“He- I think he thinks this is, like, some sort of karmic rebalancing or something.  Like we lost a child but now the universe is making up for it.  Or we never really lost the baby in the first place and it was just, like, temporally misplaced?”  Louis waved a hand dismissively – he wasn’t sure if that made any sense or if he was even explaining Harry’s logic correctly, but that was how he’d interpreted it.

“And what do you think?” Liam asked, genuinely interested.

“I think—“  Louis blew out a heavy sigh.  “I think it’s… it’s another mouth to feed.  Another lifelong responsibility.  Another thing I never asked for and never saw coming, and another human being I have to share my fucking body with!”  When he was done with his unexpected outburst, he noticed Liam staring at him with wide eyes and realized how he must have sounded.  “God, I’m a horrible person – a horrible dad,” he cried, pulling out of Liam’s grasp to huddle in solitude at the far corner of the couch.

Liam crawled off the sofa and got on his knees in front of Louis, tugging at the blanket until his face was no longer hidden behind it.  “Louis, listen to me.  You’re not horrible.”  Louis scoffed, but the sound was wet and gargled, and Liam suspected that he was crying again.  “You’re not horrible, because all those things you listed off are true, and you are allowed to be upset and confused by them.”

“Harry wouldn’t be,” he whimpered, once again feeling inadequate when compared to his angel of a husband.

“Maybe, maybe not.  But that doesn’t mean you love them any less.  Do you love your little girls, Lou?”

Louis swallowed hard, searching himself for confirmation to the answer that was already on his lips.  “Yes, but—“

“But nothing!  You can feel a lot of things about the ones you love – and as you know, not all of them are pleasant.  But at the end of the day, you make it work.  You make it work because every day you choose love over those temporary feelings.”

Liam’s words reminded Louis of Harry’s second note, the one on trust – on believing that love was at the heart of their relationship, their family, and that it was strong enough to withstand anything just as long as he _trusted_ that it would always be there.  But what if he couldn’t?  What if, for the rest of his life, he always looked at Harry like he had one foot out the door?  He wasn’t sure how long he could live like that.

“M’scared, Li.”  Harry embraced fear, believing something amazing and good to be waiting on the other side of it.  But Louis had been conditioned differently; in his experience, fear was a legitimate warning of the pain and anger that was to come.

“And it’s okay to feel that too,” Liam reassured him, placing a hand on his bent knee.  “Just… don’t let it control you.”  Louis took a shuddering breath and nodded, wiping at the moisture beneath his eyes and nose with the blanket.  Liam made a mental note to definitely throw it in the wash later, but put a pin in it for now in favor of rejoining Louis on the couch and snuggling up next to him for comfort.  “And for the love of god, do not let my fiancé convince you to name either of my goddaughters Nialla.”


	15. The Grand Opening

The opening of Harry’s second storefront was very different than the first – he knew enough now to schedule accordingly.  There were no desperate midnight trips to pick up last minute supplies and decorations.  No frantic phone calls to quell insecurities and reassure that this dream could become a reality and a success. 

No, this time there was only excitement – the filling of a void they hadn’t even realized had been empty until the pristine lobby was abuzz with the first of many future customers.

It was easy enough for Louis to hide out in back for most of the morning.  Though Harry insisted that he would love to have him up front to schmooze and sweet-talk all their patrons with him, that was not Louis’ forte.  Besides, his very obviously pregnant belly would raise some questions and he really didn’t want to take any of the focus off of Harry.  It was his big day and he deserved all the attention and accolades people would bestow upon him.  And Rose was by Harry’s side, and their daughter was a much better salesperson anyway – after all, who could refuse a sweet from an adorable four-year-old in a tiny chef’s hat?

At 5pm, the bakery officially closed the doors on its first day of operations.  The opening day party for their family and friends would begin in about an hour, and Louis was helping to clean up while Harry worked on closing out the finances.

“If every day goes as well as today, we’ll be able to recoup our costs in four months,” Harry chuckled.  It was wishful thinking – the excitement around the new shop would quickly lose its novelty – but it was wedding season and there was a good chance that he could make a profit sooner than most startups.

Louis wanted to point out that by then they’d have two new infants to take care of and they’d be lucky to break even in as many years.  “That’s great, love,” he said instead.

“Here, let me do that.”  Harry raced around the counter to take the heavy bags of trash that Louis had been hauling to the garbage bins outside.

“You don’t have to do everything,” Louis muttered when Harry was out of earshot.  He remembered this feeling of helplessness when he was pregnant with Rose, but what made it worse was feeling like this time it was warranted.  He was already exhausted and achy and his body still had months of hard work left before it would get a break.

Louis settled himself at one of the tables on the perimeter of the large open room.  As people started arriving, he wondered how he was possibly going to conceal his growing tummy from those that knew him so well.  His question was answered when Rose hopped up into his lap, wrapped her small body around him, and started to doze – she’d missed out on a nap for that day, and all the sugar and social interaction had worn her out.  Louis felt about ready to do the same.

“You look like shit,” Lottie said as she plopped into the chair across from him, a champagne flute in each hand.  Louis glared at her and gave a pointed look at the little girl in his arms.  Lottie rolled her eyes.  “She’s asleep – not to mention a word I’m certain she’s heard before.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis whispered, which just made his sister giggle.

“Come on, Lou – this is supposed to be fun and you look like your dog just died.”  She set down one of the glasses of bubbly liquid in front of him.  “Have a drink with me.”

Before he could figure out an inconspicuous way to decline, the whirlwind that was drunk Niall swung their way and snatched the drink from under his nose.  “Uh-uh, none for you,” he tsk-ed, wagging his finger at Louis before downing the contents of the glass in two gulps and releasing a loud burp.

“What is he—“

“Shit.”  Louis sat up straight and clasped a hand over his mouth as the scent of Niall’s secondhand alcohol accosted his nose.

“Oh, I know that look.”  Niall set the now empty glass back down and took Rose from Louis’ arms.

She only got a split second glance as Louis shot up out of his seat and raced toward the bathroom, but Lottie knew what she saw.  She made her way back to the door Louis had disappeared behind and rapped softly on the freshly painted wood.

“Louis?”  All she got in response was a pained groan.  “Can I come in?”  There was some shuffling and the door opened a crack.  When she pushed her way in, she found Louis on his knees with his elbows on the sides of the toilet, his head resting in his hands.  “Are you alright?”

Louis almost laughed – that was a loaded question if he’d ever heard one.  “Sure.”  He twisted his neck so that he was looking at her.  “M’fine.  Go on and enjoy the party.”

Lottie stepped fully into the small room and closed the door behind her.  She sat down on the floor next to Louis and used her fingers to comb back the strands of hair that had fallen in his face.  He could see the question in her eyes – _why didn’t you tell me?_ – but she didn’t ask it.  Instead, like she had long ago learned to do, she waited for him to speak first.

“I’m pregnant.”  Obviously.  She’d figured that much out for herself by now.  “With twins.”  He waited for some sort of shocked gasp, but none came.  “Twin girls,” he elaborated, trying to elicit a reaction worthy of the magnitude of the confession he’d just made.

“Makes sense.”  Louis looked at his sister like she’d lost her damn mind – nothing about his situation made any sense.  “Seriously, Lou?  Mom had two sets of twins.  You didn’t think there was even the slightest chance you would too?”

The whole thing would have been funny if it didn’t reinforce the feeling of ineptitude that Louis had taken upon himself.  Because… no.  Despite the fact that it was genetic – in _his_ genes, in fact – Louis had never once in his life considered the possibility that he would be pregnant again, let alone with more than one baby.  He was so wholly unprepared for all of this, even when everyone around him seemed to be perfectly fine.

Instead of answering, Louis struggled to get himself off the floor.  He wouldn’t even look at her as he brushed off her offered hand, scowling at the ease at which she was able to spring right up form her seated position.

“Louis, what?  What did I say?”

“Nothing.  You’re going to be an aunt again, so… congratulations.”  He reached for the door handle and Lottie grabbed his hand. 

“Lou—“

“I’m fine.”  Louis wrenched open the door and almost ran smack dab into Harry.

“Whoa, hey.  Is everything alright?” he asked, looking between Louis and Lottie as his hands reached out to steady Louis’ unbalanced form.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Louis said again with a little more bite.  Harry stared at him with confusion and Louis took a deep breath, relaxing his face into something that he hoped looked slightly less irritated.  “Let’s go tell everyone your big news, yeah?”  He assumed that was why Harry had been looking for him anyway.

“Is something wrong?”  The fact that Louis had referred to the announcement of their babies as _Harry’s_ news was more than a little concerning.  “We don’t have to do this tonight if you don’t want to.  If you’re feeling sick, or tired, or just… if you’re not ready.”

Louis sighed.  He was all of those things.  But Harry had been deprived of this moment – technically, he had missed out on it twice now.  Louis would not be the one to take it from him again.  Half of them already knew anyway.  “Let’s just get this over with.”

As bad as Louis thought announcing the pregnancy and being the center of attention would be, it turned out much worse.  Predictably, everyone was over the moon about the idea of another baby joining the family, and the further revelation that it was twins caused an absolute frenzy.

People came up and talked to his belly; they stared and they touched and they spoke, but it never seemed to be directed toward him, exactly.  It was like Louis wasn’t even there.  He was just this vessel for the lives growing inside him.

It was similar to an experience he recognized from his childhood when social workers would come by the house after a trip to the hospital.  They would see the torn clothes and the bruises and the bloodshot eyes, but they would never see _him_ – the scared little boy who was broken and desperate for someone not just to tell him that things would be alright, but to show him.  To make him believe it.

Harry, of course, had noticed his husband’s melancholy, even if he couldn’t place the why or the when or the how.  “I just can’t get a read on him,” Harry confessed to his mother as he watched Louis indulge Gemma’s incessant proximity to her unborn nieces.

“He’s going through a lot of changes right now.  You both are.”

“I know that.”  Harry sighed.  “I just- what if it’s more than that?”

“What do you mean, love?”

Harry pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it’s nothing.”  Anne tugged at his sleeve to pull his hand away from his face and cupped his cheek.  “I wasn’t- I mean, I didn’t exactly… take the news of the pregnancy well at first.  I, um, said some things I shouldn’t have.”

Anne squeezed his forearm and gave him a sympathetic smile.  “Whatever you said, I’m sure he knows you didn’t mean it.”

Harry shook his head at her typical unconditional mum love response.  "I think I did mean it, though.  At the time.”  He was out of his mind with guilt and grief and anger, but feelings that were temporary had produced words that would come back to haunt him forever.  “Things are different now.  But—”  Harry’s eyes flicked back over to his husband, who was now surrounded by a flock of slightly intoxicated young women cooing just a little too loudly to be considered ‘baby talk’.

“You’re worried about him,” Anne finished for him.  Harry nodded.  “What’s he said about all this?”

“Nothing,” Harry sighed – and that was the most frustrating thing.  “Not to me, anyway.  He says he’s fine, and maybe he is… but something just feels off.”  Although he was afraid to voice it aloud, his interactions with Louis were beginning to feel much like they had at the start of their relationship.  Not that Louis was necessarily hiding something, but more like he was intentionally closing off a part of himself to shield Harry from some unpleasant part of himself.

Anne patted his shoulder.  “You two are made for each other.  You’ll figure it out.”

“Could you maybe… would you mind, you know, talking to him?  Please?”  If he wouldn’t talk to Harry, maybe Louis would open up to the only constant maternal figure that he’d ever had in his life.

“Of course.”  She wrapped her arms around her baby boy and squeezed him tight.  “You’re an amazing man – a wonderful husband and father – and I’m so proud of you.”

“I guess I had a good role model.”

She leaned up to peck him on the cheek before marching into the throng of adoring fans and hauling Louis across the room and out the front door.  “Thought you could use some fresh air,” she explained at his bewildered, though notably relieved, expression.  The evening air still held traces of the summer day’s warmth, but the crisp breeze made it downright pleasant.  “How are you, my love?”

“We’re fine,” Louis answered flatly, placing one hand on the underside of his belly and pressing the other into the aching curve of his lower back.

Anne chuckled, but something about the way he said it – with the slightest hint of exasperation – brought back Harry’s words to her mind.  “That’s good to know, but I wasn’t asking about the collective ‘you’.  I want to know how my son-in-law is doing.”

Louis gave her a weak smile, but knew she would see through any false platitudes.  So he chose to divert the topic instead.  “I’m glad the bakery’s finally open.”  Although Harry would probably be gone just as often, which hours he was gone on which days would be much more predictable.

“Mmm,” Anne hummed in agreement.  “My son has always loved being in the kitchen.  Even when he was little, before I let him use the oven, he would use food coloring and spoons to make patterns and designs in the frosting.  He always had the best gingerbread houses.”

“Still does.”

Anne sighed, hoping the next segue didn’t sound too contrived.  “It wasn’t all cupcakes and sprinkles, though.  Being a parent is difficult to start with, and then when I became a single parent, of two young children…  Everything became that much more difficult, from simply keeping an eye on both of them in the grocery store to wondering if I was even going to be able to afford to pay for them once we got there.”

“I- I’m sorry.”  Though Louis had very nearly entered into a similar situation, he hadn’t had to think about the practical implications that far into the future.

“I’m not.  I was young and scared, but I wasn’t alone.  I had family and friends and, most importantly, the two little ones that I loved more than anything in the whole world.  I would do anything for them – just like you.”  She turned to face him then.  “And just like Harry.”

“I know that.”  And deep down in his bones, he did.  But Harry had always been that way – he would always be enough.  Louis just wasn’t sure that he himself could live up to those same standards.

She searched his eyes, boring into him until recognizing the truth in his words, and nodded.  “Good.  Because when things get hard – and they will get hard, my love – you will always, _always_ have people you can come to.  To talk to or ask for help.  If not Harry, then me.  Or your sister.  Or Gemma or your friends.”  Anne pulled him in close, much like she had done with Harry earlier.  “Don’t forget that you’re my son now too, and I will love you and fight for you just as fiercely as the ones I gave birth to.”

Louis held his tears in check long enough for Anne to lead him back into the store and pass him off to Harry, then promptly buried his face in Harry’s chest and soaked what had previously been a very nice silk top.  “I love you.  Your mum’s amazing.”

“If I’d known you just wanted me for my mum, I’d have introduced you to her a lot earlier in our relationship,” he teased, to which Louis made a point of smearing more of the moisture on his face into Harry’s shirt.

“Oi, there you are!”  Niall stumbled in their direction with an exasperated Liam trying to contain the damage left in his wake.  “Thought you mighta bailed on us.  Ya know, what with what happened last time we had a big party while you were pregnant.”  Liam balked at his tactless and entirely unnecessary mention of one of the night Louis ended up in the hospital, but Niall didn’t seem to notice and continued on in blissful ignorance.  “’Bout time you opened this place up, though,” he said to Harry.  “Just in time to cater our wedding.”

“Just the cake, Ni,” Liam reminded him.

“Nope,” he insisted.  “The _whole_ wedding.”  He wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulder and waved his other arm in front of them in a ‘picture this’ motion.  “Just a big buffet of desserts.”

Though no one else appeared to be listening, Liam was quick to assure everyone that there would be actual food there as well.  “Something tells me the small country of people you invited are going to be expecting something more than just donuts and chocolate.”

Niall scoffed.  “Yeah, but everyone knows that the rest of the food is always shite.  The sweets are what they really remember.”

Liam crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.  “I _think_ that might take second place to, oh I don’t know, the whole ‘two people joining their lives together forever’ thing?”

To appease his fiancé, Niall nodded along, but then quietly whispered to Harry, “Depends on how good yer cake is though, yeah?”

Despite his mum’s assessment that Louis was just tired and overwhelmed – and probably would be for the foreseeable future, given their circumstances – Harry kept a close eye on his husband.  Over the next several days, Louis began sleeping more and eating less.  He texted more frequently, sometimes because he needed something and other times just because he needed Harry.  They were subtle changes, all of which could be explained away with perfectly normal pregnancy-related reasoning.

But something still nagged at him.  Which was why, despite having literally just opened the doors to his new business, Harry took a day off to spend with Louis.  Just the two of them.

“This is ridiculous, Haz.  You can’t afford to just shut down for a day already,” Louis whined, partly out of rational thought and partly just because he wasn’t ready to get out of bed quite yet.

“And as I’ve told you, we are not shut down – I’m just letting the inmates run the asylum for a day.”  Several of the people he’d hired were either previous employees or professionals he’d poached from various vendors with whom he’d worked over the years.  Any one of them would be more than competent enough to handle running the bakery’s operations for that day.  “Besides, this is important.”

“But we can just order this stuff _online_.  I mean, if you think about it, it would actually be easier to have it shipped right to our front door, for free, than to have to fit everything in the trunk and haul it all back here.”

Harry grinned – he’d suggested this outing so that they could pick up another set of essential items to populate their nursery, but that wasn’t the only reason they were going out.  “Just trust me.  I’ll make it worth your while.”

The actual shopping was over rather quickly – after only an hour or so, Louis was too exhausted, both physically and mentally, to make any decisions and ended up just selecting the first things they found in each category.  By the time they got to the third store, Louis simply plopped himself down in one of the glider chairs by the entrance and dozed while Harry picked out the last of their things.

Instead of going back to their house when they were finished, Harry stopped outside one of those holistic, new age-y health and wellness centers and Louis cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Welcome to the ‘worth’ in your ‘while’,” Harry said cryptically, spinning the steering wheel and pulling into an open parking space.

“What are you on about?”

“I’ve scheduled pedicures for us both in about 10 minutes.  Then you have a one-hour pregnancy massage while I run out to pick up dinner from Gente di Mare that we can take home and eat in our pajamas with no one to judge us for each consuming an entire loaf of garlic bread.”

In his younger – and significantly smaller – days, Louis may very well have jumped Harry’s bones right there in the driver’s seat for this.  He was quickly getting to the point where he could barely even see his swollen feet around his protruding middle, and he was happy for the relief.  They didn’t speak, but Harry held his hand in the adjacent chair as they were soaked and scrubbed and moisturized to supple perfection.

Normally, Louis would have objected to having a stranger’s hands wandering all up and down his bare skin, but honestly it just felt too damn good for him to maintain his normal defenses.  They even set him up on this special table with a dip cut out of the middle that would accommodate his stomach, and the massage therapist clearly knew what she was doing because she unwound knots and kinks in muscles that Louis didn’t even know existed.  If they didn’t know any better, one might think they were filming a porno what with the soft and sensual moans that were being pulled from his lips.

Harry had to practically carry a slightly dazed and blissed out Louis to the car, but the strong scent of basil and marinara brought him back to full consciousness and caused his stomach to rumble.  For once, the powerful smells didn’t make him nauseous, and he actually ended up eating most of his dinner before they even made it back to the house.

Still jelly-limbed, and now with a full tummy, Louis was again overcome by drowsiness, and Harry was happy to lead him up to their bed for an afternoon nap.

When Louis opened his eyes next, the sky was already ablaze in bright oranges and pastel pinks.  He padded out into the hallway, peering into the only other room with a light on inside – the nursery.

“Morning,” Harry said, looking up at Louis’ disheveled appearance with a wink.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked, though the answer was obvious.  The floor was littered with torn plastic bags and extra screws and incomprehensible instruction manuals.  “Can I help?”

“Actually,” Harry hauled himself off the floor and pushed the now fully assembled second crib that they’d purchased against the wall, “I was just finishing up.”

Louis scanned the room and noted that several of their recent acquisitions had now made their way out of the boxes and into the room.  Harry had done all this work, all the tedious comparison shopping and putting together and decorating.  It brought tears to his eyes, partly out of gratitude and love, but also out of guilt.  Harry was starting a new business and had still managed to go above and beyond while Louis allowed himself to laze around and be pampered all day.

“I’m sorry,” Louis managed to get out, turning and shielding himself from Harry’s penetrating concerned gaze.

“Did I- I mean, did you… did you want to, um, do this?”  He was just trying to help, to ease what little of the burden he could from Louis’ shoulders.  But he also recalled a time just before Rose was born that Louis took offense at the implication that he could no longer do things for himself.  “Is this okay?”

“No, I—“  In that moment, Louis almost cracked.  He almost let loose the torrent of doubts and insecurities and fears that had been present since the moment that first plus sign had appeared and had recently spiked to almost unmanageable proportions.

But then a familiar and yet entirely alien sensation popped and fluttered in his tummy and drowned out whatever negative thoughts had been threatening to overtake him.

“Lou?” Harry prompted, unable to keep up with his husband’s rapidly shifting emotions.  “What—“  Louis grabbed Harry’s hand and pressed it flat against the approximate location where he felt the movement.  “I don’t—“

“Just wait.”  They waited in silence for several more seconds before another swift kick pressed lightly into the wall of his abdomen.

“Holy shit!”

“Right?”  Louis had forgotten how weird it felt to have a wholly independent entity moving around inside your body.

“Oh my god.  Oh my _god._   That’s our baby, Lou.”  Or, one of them at least.

At this point, Louis had expected Harry to drop to his knees, pepper his belly with kisses, and speak to his daughters about how much he loved them and couldn’t wait to meet them.  But instead he kept the one hand where it was and used the other to wrap around the curve of Louis’ neck, leaning down close so that their foreheads touched.

“Thank you,” Harry breathed.

“For- what for?”

Harry took a deep breath, a smile curving his lips as he exhaled.  “For loving me even when I didn’t deserve it.  For making us parents again even when I couldn’t.  For giving me everything I ever wanted, and also everything I never knew I did.”

As he always did when Harry spouted such beautiful, heartfelt words, Louis felt unworthy to be their recipient.  Believing them might have shined a light in the dark places that still made their home in his heart, but Louis was not quite sure he was ready to face what was hiding in the shadows. 

So he made a joke.

“You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.  By law.  Classic Stockholm Syndrome if I ever heard it.”

“Heyyy,” Harry began to protest, but was distracted by another insistent nudge against his palm.  “Hey,” he said again, softer this time – almost cooing.  Now he did get down so that he was at eye level with the twins.  “I know things are going to get a little tight in there, but try to behave yourselves.  It’s only for a few more months.”  

Louis let out a little squeak and his face bore an expression that could be described as panicked.  “Shit, they’re gonna be here in a few months.”  Of course he knew that there would be two new babies in the house.  In the hypothetical sense.  But feeling them move and kick and respond to Harry’s voice made it seem so real, so _soon_.

 “I know,” Harry said, standing up and pulling Louis close against his chest.  “It’s… well, it’s the slightest bit terrifying, yeah?”  Louis wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question, but nodded anyway.  “But it’s okay.  I love you and everything’s gonna be okay.” 

There was an unwavering certainty in his words, like they would either be true or Harry would _make_ them true.  And because of that, if even for just this moment, Louis allowed himself to believe it too.


	16. The Breaking Point

As predicted, the summer wedding season was keeping the new business in full swing. Harry was often away during nights and weekends to make and deliver the custom pieces for their magical days, but also during most of the day to continue handling the regular day-to-day operations.

Louis had been doing his best to try and bury the anxieties that seemed to surface at increasingly frequent intervals, but the constant effort it took to maintain this mask of normalcy was taking its toll.  His appetite was basically nonexistent, aided by the unease of nausea that had never really gone away, and there were some days he couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed.  Rose was usually happy enough to eat forbidden treats and watch tv in the ‘grownup’ bed on those occasions, and Harry’s prolonged absences made them relatively easy to brush off.  The resulting missed deadlines at work, however, were not so easy to ignore.

So he really shouldn’t have been surprised when his next doctor’s appointment revealed that he hadn’t gained any weight or when his boss strongly ‘suggested’ he take a leave of absence for the remainder of his pregnancy.  And he wasn’t surprised, really. But despite Harry’s unwavering encouragement and assurances that he was so strong and doing so well, it only added to the feelings of inadequacy and failure.

But keeping all this emotion bottled up tended to build up in pressure, and it was released in little violent bursts of anger and crying that usually ended up with yelling and doors slamming followed quickly by more crying along with desperate pleas and apologies.  It all happened so fast that often Harry was still trying to figure out what exactly they were arguing about by the time it was over.

They both sensed that it was coming to a head – that something was about to break – but they were powerless to do anything about it until that happened.

That moment came in early June, just under six months into his pregnancy and just two weeks before Niall and Liam’s wedding.

Harry had come home before dark for the first time in weeks, and found Rose in the living room by herself watching cartoons and playing with her plastic ponies.

“Where’s papa?” he asked, kneeling down to trot one of the discarded figurines over to whinny at her chosen mare.

“Asleep.  Again,” she sighed, play fighting with Harry’s horse until she’d decided she’d won.  “He’s always sleeping.”

Harry sat fully down and took her in his lap.  She buried her face in his neck and the action felt needy, desperate – like she had been starved of human contact and needed to feel close to someone.  “I know it’s hard that papa can’t play with you like he used to right now.  But remember how we talked about your little sisters growing in his tummy?  He’s working really hard to help them get nice and big and strong so they can come out and meet us.”

“Why can’t they just come out now?” she whined in a tone that, had she been standing, would have come with a stomp of her foot.

“They’re too little, baby – only about this big.”  He circled his hands around to about the size of a grapefruit.  “Can you be a good big sister and be patient just a little longer?”

Rose pretended to deliberate, but Harry knew she would agree – the big sister card always worked on her.

“Okay.  But I get to hold them first!”

Harry chuckled – she would probably have to fight her aunt Gemma for that honor.  “There will be plenty of holding time to go around,” he assured her.  “Now how about we let papa sleep while we go over to see uncle Liam and uncle Niall?”

Rose squealed with delight and hopped up to go try and find her jacket and shoes – she was their chosen flower girl, and took her responsibilities almost as seriously as those of siblinghood.  She loved trying on her princess dress and practicing tossing fake petals at her feet, and Harry had to go over some last minute decisions about their cake anyway.

Which was how Louis ended up waking up to a dark empty house with no idea where the daughter he was supposed to be, you know, parenting had gone.

It started out slow at first, the realization; just a vague sense that he was forgetting something important.  When he realized that that something was actually a some _one_ , he shot out of bed faster than he’d moved in weeks, completely missing the note that had been placed beside him explaining where Harry and Rose had gone.

Louis darted from room to room, heart racing and chest tightening with each step.

When the interior of the house came up empty, he scoured the backyard, even going so far as to test his tenuous balancing capabilities to climb up their play set and see if maybe she had tucked herself away in the house at the top.

As a last resort, he went back through the house and through the front door, searching around for clues like she was an animal whose footprints he could track.  The fact that she didn’t know how to work the lock didn’t even occur to him.  Nor did the fact that she couldn’t drive when he looked to see if his car was still where he’d left it.

So he did what he always did when his life seemed to be falling apart.

He called Harry.

No answer.

Called again.

Still no answer.

Shitshitshit.

After a third failed attempt at reaching his husband, Louis’ mind began spinning even more elaborate conspiracy theories about what might have happened to not just Rose, but now both of them.

Someone had kidnapped their perfect daughter.  A disgruntled client had killed Harry for frosting their cupcakes in the wrong shade of blue.  Some second tier football coach was holding them for ransom until Louis wrote an exclusive effusively praising their crappy team.

Around and around his dark thoughts spiraled, smothering everything else inside him until it was hard to think, to breathe.

What he thought had been just a metaphorical constricting became a literal one, the walls of his abdomen tightening painfully and causing him to lose whatever air his lungs had managed to hold onto.

It was a familiar pain, but one he wasn’t supposed to feel this intensely for months yet.

“N-no. Too soon. It’s too soon.”

It was as if the universe had heard his mind screaming over these last few months how horrible a father and husband he’d been, how he didn’t deserve this life and all the beautiful things it had been filled with, and had decided to take it all from him in one fell swoop.

He probably should have called the police or an ambulance or some sort of emergency services, but he doubted he’d be able to accurately explain the situation.

His world condensed into a cloud of panic and agony and confusion, and the tiniest part of him believed that he deserved whatever horrible fate was upon him.  But in a moment of weakness, he used the phone still clutched in his hand to reach out and hear a friendly voice in, what he was convinced, were his last moments on this earth.

Liam, Niall, Harry, and Rose had been in the backyard doing the wedding march for the thirtieth time when Liam remembered that the florist was supposed to call back about a last minute substitution they were going to have to make to the centerpieces.  They had piled their phones in the center of the table for dinner – a lesson to the little one to spend quality time actually talking to each other – and had left them there when they’d gone outside.

It was already ringing when he slipped in the door, and he jogged across the room so as not to miss the call, only to find that it was his narcoleptic best friend.

“Finally decided to wake up?” Liam teased in greeting.  His lighthearted jab was met with nothing but a labored, gasping wheeze that could have been screaming if there had been enough air behind the sound. “Louis?  Lou, what’s wrong?”

“G-gone.  All.  Gone.”

“What’s gone?”  There was a dull thunk followed by a weak moan that sounded a little too much like Louis had just collapsed onto the floor.  “What’s happening?  Louis?  Louis!”

Liam was already running outside to where Harry was currently acting as the makeshift groom as his daughter took careful, measured steps toward him.  His adoring smile faded when he saw the look of panic on Liam’s face.

“What—“

“Louis, he- something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong with Louis.”

Harry snatched the phone out of Liam’s hand and listened to the pathetic whimpers coming through the receiver.  “Louis?  Baby?  What is it, what’s wrong?”

“H-Harry?”

He wasn’t so sure why Louis sounded so incredulous.  “It’s me, I’m here.”  More sobs echoed in his ear.  “Did something happen?  Are you okay?”

“Fuck.”  Panting, sobbing, more whispered curses.  “Hurts.  Too soon.  I’m sorry – it’s too soon.”

Involuntary tears sprang to Harry’s eyes, but he held them in check – Louis was falling apart on the other end of their conversation and at least one of them had to keep a clear head.  “Lou, I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on.  Can you do that for me please?”  He kept his tone as even as he could, and it felt odd for such a calm voice to be coming from a body that was pumping full of adrenaline.

“Can’t- can’t- breathe.”

To Harry it sounded like he was breathing too much – hyperventilating – but being out of control of your respiratory system was terrifying and confusing and could very well make it feel like suffocation.  Louis needed to calm down or he was going to pass out.  “I need you to take deep breaths for me, love.  Can you do that for me?”

“She’s gone.  I lost her.”  Harry’s blood turned to ice in his veins, thinking that maybe the past was repeating itself, before Louis continued.  “Rose is gone.  She’s gone, Haz.  Fuck.”

It took a moment for Louis’ words to register, for his heart to unthaw, before he could speak.  “What?  No, she’s- she’s here, Lou.  She’s with me.  Rose, me, Liam, Niall – we’re all right here.  Together.  Everything’s okay.”  He thought he was being considerate, leaving a written note instead of possibly disturbing Louis’ sleep with a text, but apparently that decision had been the inciting incident to whatever was happening now.  This was all his fault.

“Really?  She’s- you have her?  She’s okay?  You’re both okay?”

Niall had wisely spirited Rose away to another corner of the yard as soon as Liam had come sprinting back and was doing a good job of distracting her from the very obvious anxiety the adults were currently exuding.  He kept glancing their direction, but Harry had no reassurances to offer.

“She’s okay, Lou.  There’s nothing to worry about.”  Except that Louis was still choking on air and releasing it in soft, stuttering moans.  “Please, just breathe, baby.”

“Mmmno.  Need you.”  His words were becoming slurred and Harry feared it was because the erratic oxygen intake was causing him to lose consciousness.  “Contractions.  Sorry,” he whimpered in response to Harry’s swift intake of breath.

“It’s okay.  Everything’s gonna be okay.”  Whispered words too faint to make out.  “Lou?”  Silence.  “Louis!”  Harry pulled the phone back from his ear to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.

It hadn’t.

“What do you need?”  When Harry continued to stare numbly at the phone, Liam prompted again.  “What can I do?”

“Home.  I, um, I need to go home.  And… and hospital.  And- Rose?”

Liam took the phone from Harry’s grasp.  “Rose can stay here with Niall.  I’ll drive you to your house and we can call an ambulance on the way.” 

Liam had always been good in a crisis, and it was a good thing he didn’t wait for Harry to confirm the plan before executing it – he wasn’t in any state to think things through at the moment.  His thoughts and emotions were on a constant loop of _fearworryguiltpain_.

He told the emergency dispatcher what little he knew about Louis’ condition.  Louis was 26 weeks pregnant with twins.  He was experiencing contractions.  He’d been having a panic attack.  He had probably passed out.

The paramedics had gotten there shortly before Liam pulled up.  The door was ajar and Harry tried to steel himself for the worst, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his husband splayed out motionless on the floor, eyes closed and limbs at awkward angles, and a man in uniform positioning a stretcher beside his body.

“Is he—“  Liam began to ask the question that Harry’s mind couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“He’s okay,” the other paramedic, a tall woman with sympathetic eyes and a calming demeanor, said.  “A little banged up from the initial fall, maybe, but both his and the babies’ vitals look good.  Are you the husband?”  A nod.  “It’s Harry, right?” she asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Um, yeah.  It’s- is he in labor?”

“It’s too soon to tell for sure, but I’m afraid it looks that way.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for or put off by her honesty.  “But- but it’s too soon,” he said dumbly, echoing Louis’ earlier assessment.

“Not so soon that you should be talking like that,” Liam said firmly, almost angrily.  Harry was talking and acting like he’d already lost the babies at the exact moment he needed to be strong for them.  To have hope.  “They could be fine.”

“Your friend is right,” the paramedic assured him.  “If he is in labor, the doctors are going to do everything they can to stop it.  But even if they can’t, neonatal technology has come a long way even in just the last few years.  They’ve got a good shot.”

She didn’t say a good shot at what.  Survival, maybe.  But what other complications could result?  Had he doomed his girls to a lifetime of difficulties because of one thoughtless act?

When they loaded Louis into the ambulance, Harry was quick to hop in the back with them. Louis was pretty out of it for most of the ride to the hospital, only stirring as a reflex whenever the pain coursed periodically through his body.  He held Louis’ hand and kissed whatever parts of him were not currently being examined or tested or monitored.

Harry wanted to be numb to this.  His brain was exhausted from running through every potential outcome, from swinging wildly back and forth between hoping for the best and blaming himself for the worst.  He wanted to be calm and rational and take in everything that was happening with a passive indifference until the outcome was determined.  Then he could process, knowing what it was he was dealing with.

Instead, everything was intensified.  Every feeling, every new piece of information, every decision or change or goddamn incessant beeping of the clock, the monitors, the drip of the sink, the footsteps in the hall… every sensation pounded into him until he was sure he would implode from the pressure of it all.

As soon as Louis opened his eyes, though, everything that had been building inside him released in an unremarkable fizzle, and Harry deflated.  Louis was awake and the babies were still inside him and the magnesium sulfate they’d pumped into him upon their arrival seemed to have worked because the contractions had stopped and his husband was _awake_ and staring at him with a mix of confusion and grogginess followed quickly by the fear and shame that Harry now recognized after having seen it on his face for weeks now.

“Harry, I- I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry!  I—“  The heart rate monitor to his left started spiking erratically and Louis squeezed his eyes shut again.  He felt a warm hand brush across his forehead, his cheek, his neck.  It finally settled on his stomach and Louis let out a wisp of sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a whimper.  “I messed up.”

“Hey, none of that now.”  There had been plenty of blame and guilt going around lately and it wasn’t doing anyone any good.  “I love you.  You’re all okay and I love you.”  Every time he said those three words, Louis seemed to recoil.  “Could you look at me, baby?  Please?”  It took a few moments, but finally Louis looked up and Harry’s gaze was softer than he expected, more adoring than he deserved.  “I love you.  Every.  Piece.  No matter what.”

A fluttering erupted in Louis’ tummy that had nothing to do with the babies currently occupying it.  “I—“

 “Mr. Tomlinson-Styles.”  Having been notified of the change in Louis’ rhythms, a familiar face popped into the room.  “Good to see those baby blues again.  How are you feeling?”  When he didn’t answer, Dr. Reid stepped fully into the room

Words could not express how Louis was feeling, but his body spoke where his voice could not.

In that moment, Harry wanted to take back every thought he’d ever had about this being easy for Louis.  Aside from the actual getting pregnant part, everything else had been so much harder on him.  Sitting beside his husband’s hospital bed and unable to do anything as he just broke down in front of his eyes, Harry had never felt so helpless.  Not when his dad walked out on his mum.  Not when Gemma’s first boyfriend had broken her heart.  Not even when he’d gone through the miscarriage.  In those moments there had been pain, and anger, and maybe the slightest bit of hopelessness, but it was nothing compared to hearing Louis finally admit how his mind had been betraying him.

How he hated that his broken body was failing the two innocent little lives depending on it.

How he couldn’t tell which one of them it was kicking him at any given moment and he hated that too.

How he couldn’t move like he used to and would never look like he used to and felt like he would never be a good enough husband or father or human being in general.

How he wanted more than anything to just be happy but it always got overshadowed by anxiety and fear.

How he both loved and hated his family more than anything for all the joy he knew they brought to his life but was impossible for him to feel.

And, of course, how he felt guilty for all of it. 

Blamed himself for not doing enough.  

Not saying enough.  

Not—

Not _being_ enough.

“What if I feel this way forever?  What if I never love these babies?”

“It sounds to me like you love these babies very much already, Louis.  Otherwise you wouldn’t be having these concerns in the first place.”  Louis neither affirmed nor denied the doctor’s claim.  “And from what I know of your history, I am fairly confident that these negative feelings are not, in fact, borne out of a subconscious dislike for those closest to you.”

“Then what?  What is it?”

“First, I think it is important that you know, and I mean really _know_ , that these things you’re feeling, it’s not your fault.”  Not telling anyone about it, keeping it all bottled up inside and suffering in silence until his body rebelled and put him into preterm labor was not the smartest decision on his part, but she would not add to the blame he already placed on himself.  “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I hurt the babies,” he whispered, looking down at his stomach and sending another silent apology their way.

“I think you’ve been hurting yourself more than anyone else.  Babies are more resilient than people give them credit for – they’ll take what they need from your body as long as they’re in there.  Which brings me to my next point...”

“But the contractions have stopped. He’s not- the labor has stopped?”  Harry was almost sure that was the case, but the doctor’s stern look made the statement come out like a question.

“Yes, the medication seems to be working.  But if something doesn’t change, if we don’t get this under control, it will happen again.”  And next time they might not be able to stop it.

“I didn’t mean to.  I- I-“  Louis was on the verge of crying again, but he tried to hold back, to keep it together.

“Louis,” the doctor began, perching on the corner of his bed, “it’s okay to express what you’re feeling.  Whatever that may be.  When I found out I was pregnant with baby number five – a shock to both of us, I assure you – I punched a hole in our drywall.”

“Really?”  Louis thought for sure she was kidding, but she nodded and clenched her hand reflexively, as if she could still feel the consequences of that impulsive blow in her bones.

“That one little patch of wall is still a slightly different color than the rest of the hallway,” she mused.  “So believe me when I say, no one is going to judge you for the way you feel.”

“What- what do I do?”  He felt ready to do anything.  “Why do I feel this way?”

“I believe you are suffering from pre-partum depression.”  Often just identifying the problem, putting a name to it and starting coming up with a plan to fight against it, was an empowering thing.

“I don’t- is that a thing?”  Harry had heard of post-partum depression, but he was the more pregnancy-literate of the two and this wasn’t something he’d come across.

“Unfortunately, it’s more common than people realize.  But most tend to downplay or dismiss the symptoms – blame it on the pregnancy hormones.”

“I’m sorry.  I- I should have...”  Harry began, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he should have or could have done.

“Just as the blame is not with Louis, it is not with you either, Harry,” Dr. Reid was quick to assure him.  “It is a combination of chemical imbalances, past traumas, and current stresses.  And now that we know about it, we can work on a treatment plan.”  She saw the doubt in Louis’ eyes and covered his hand with hers.  “There is a way out of this, Louis.  And there is light on the other side.”

Louis nodded, more because he _needed_ to believe her than because he actually did. “How?”

Dr. Reid outlined several options, but it basically boiled down to drugs and/or therapy.  Louis didn’t particularly like the idea of unpacking all his shit to a stranger, but there was barely any research into the long-term effects that antidepressants would have on the babies and he refused to put them in harm’s way.  Again.  So he could put aside his own discomfort and decided to do whatever stupid intentional breathing and visualization exercises the shrink prescribed for him if it meant keeping his babies safe.

With a plan to meet with a psychologist and an order to eat up and rest up so they could get Louis out of the hospital and back home where he was more comfortable, Dr. Reid left the room.

Alone once again, a heavy silence settled over the dimly lit space.  The wheels in Louis’ head were already spinning, trying to weave a narrative intricate enough to fully express the rainbow of emotions wrapping themselves tightly around him.  But Harry cut off whatever thoughts had been forming with a simple question that took him completely by surprise.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“W-what?  For- why?”

“For doing this to you.”  Both for causing the panic that had sent him to the hospital, but also maybe for getting him pregnant in the first place.  “For not being there when you needed me.”  He took Louis’ hand and fiddled with the gold band stretched across his ring finger.  “For not living up to the vow I made to you – to be the one to make you feel happy, and worthy, and loved.”  He leaned down to press his lips to that spot, the symbol of that promise.  His head stayed bowed, and when Louis felt wetness on the back of his hand he used the other to card his fingers through Harry’s hair.  “I’m sorry.”

“You were keeping that vow before you even made it to me.”

Harry picked his head up.  “I don’t—“

“Will you lay with me?”  When Harry didn’t respond, Louis gently patted a spot on the bed beside him.  “I just, I want… I need to feel close to you,” he admitted shyly, not used to suddenly just blurting out whatever seemingly ridiculous thoughts popped into his head.

“Of course,” Harry said hoarsely, the tears threatening to come back.

It was a little awkward, dodging all the wires and machines and squishing onto the small mattress.  They had to readjust a few times, but eventually they ended up stacked on top of each other, Harry leaning back in the center of the semi-reclined bed and Louis between his legs and resting his back against Harry’s chest.  Both pairs of hands naturally settled around the bump sticking out prominently from beneath the thin hospital blanket and for the first time in a long time Louis felt safe, content.  

In that moment, Louis realized that the parts of himself that he usually kept locked tightly away were not just keeping the darkness in – they were keeping the light out.  The light that being vulnerable and intimate and fully connected with Harry had always brought into his life.  And fuck if he didn’t miss being able to navigate the depths of his emotions without stubbing his goddamn toe every two feet.

Well, Louis was never one for half-assing anything.  He wasn’t just going throw the lock… he was gonna blow the whole damn ceiling off.

“I was dead, you know.  Before I met you.”  Louis said it so casually that Harry almost missed the gravity of the declaration.  “I didn’t know it at the time, but I was.  And then you came crashing into my world, and suddenly everything… everything hurt.  Everything was confusing and terrifying and infuriating, and you were at the center of it all.”  Harry bit his lip and tried to mumble another quiet apology, but Louis cut him off.  “Do you know why?”  It was a rhetorical question, and he continued before Harry could answer.  “You brought me back to _life_ , Haz.  Like my whole body had fallen asleep and then, bam!  And god it hurt like hell, but I could _feel_ again.  And there was so goddamn much to feel.  So much shitty stuff that, upon diving deeper, only revealed more shitty stuff.”

“So I have always been the root cause of your suffering.”  Harry tried to make the remark come off as a joke, but it held too much guilt to land as such.

Louis shook his head and moved his hands so they were around Harry’s.  “You’re missing the point.  All those shitty things?  They were already inside me.  Eating away at me even if I was too numb at the time to notice or care.  But then I met you, and you were my one good thing – the spark of light in all my darkness.”

“Lou—“

“And then you stayed.  You turned that one good thing into two.  And then ten.  And then a hundred.  You smiled at me and kissed me and told me that you loved me until there were more good things than I could count.”  Louis leaned his head back and twisted his neck so that he could look up into Harry’s eyes.  “You are all the things that give me life.  You are the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, and the marrow in my bones.  You are _in_ me, Harry Tomlinson-Styles, and that means there will always be light and joy and love in my heart.  Even if my body and brain are too stupidly overwhelmed to realize it sometimes.”

Harry craned his neck down awkwardly so that he could place a gentle kiss on Louis’ lips.  “Has anyone ever told you how incredible you are?”

Louis hummed, the vibration traveling through to Harry’s mouth and causing him to twitch and smile.  “I believe my husband has mentioned it once or twice.  But it’s always nice to hear.”

Harry nuzzled into Louis’ hair and whispered in his ear, “You’re incredible.”

“And you’re probably going to have to make Liam and Niall’s cake for free after this.”  He was teasing, but Louis knew how much the two had done for them, and how much his best friend worried.  Niall, too, though he tended to be less scowl-y about it.

Harry leaned back and pulled Louis flush against him.  Their hands took back up their previous positions and he felt one of his daughter’s feet jut out against his palm.  “Worth it.”

Definitely worth it.


	17. The Heart Grows Fonder

Louis spent several days in the hospital for monitoring and counseling.  Harry had been hesitant to leave him even then, but someone had to go to work and take care of their daughter and Louis had insisted that he was as safe and cared for as he could possibly be surrounded by a fleet of medical personnel.

When he was released with no further indications of complications, it was Harry’s turn to be stubborn.  He took the day off – again – and forced Louis to follow along with the pregnancy yoga video he’d gotten months ago.  He talked in a soothing, even tone and held Louis’ hand as they recited some of the positive affirmations the therapist had given him to help disrupt the negative thought patterns in his brain.

Louis was exhausted trying to keep track of everything going on in his head and his body and it seemed silly to have to say something nice about himself every time even if he didn’t believe it.  He tried, but it went against all the things that had been drilled into him since childhood – all the things he just took as fact because he was too young, too vulnerable to see the truth.

Still, Harry reluctantly went back to work and Louis reluctantly kept practicing his cognitive behavioral therapy exercises.  Rose actually rather enjoyed them – she had an endless list of things she loved about her papa and was never shy about helping out when Louis was at a loss.  When she brought up how she wanted to be a mummy just like him someday because of how much fun they always had together – and the babies too probably because of how much they were moving around in his tummy – he may have ended up a sobbing mess on the floor that may have sent Harry into a bit of a panic when he got home.

There had been two separate stag parties scheduled for right before the wedding – Niall had insisted that he could not very well indulge in his last few hours of bachelorhood with his fiancé standing right there.  Because Louis was in no condition to handle the unbridled chaos that was manic drunk Niall, he was supposed to be in charge of showing Liam a good time.

Everything had already been planned out – a nice steak dinner with a few rounds at the bar followed by some good-natured gambling and maybe a bit of harmless trespassing at their old university grounds.  But the wedding was the next day and it was suggested by multiple individuals that perhaps so much activity so soon after Louis’ hospital stay was not the best idea.  The reception was outside and he’d be on his feet all day and he had to give a speech and wear a stuffy suit and… they were right.  Louis pouted and teared up at the admission – his best friend was getting married and he wasn’t even able to celebrate with him – but they were right.

To make things worse, just before Liam was supposed to go out with his other, less emotionally damaged friends, he showed up at Louis’ doorstep with bags of takeout and a few DVD rentals.

“Who rents actual, physical movies anymore?” Louis said by way of greeting, leaving the door ajar behind him as he went back into the living room to wipe the moisture from his face.

“Uncle Liam!” Rose squealed as she bounded around Louis to loop her arms around Liam’s knees, bouncing up and down in place with enough vigor to almost lose her grip on him.

“Hey, little jumping bean!”  He set the bags down in the general direction of the kitchen and bent down to scoop Rose up into his arms.  “Have you been taking good care of papa today?”

“Uh-huh, yes,” she nodded seriously.  “We had grow foods at every meal and we took naps together and- and we sang Frozen on the piano and- and—“

“Sounds like I missed quite the party.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Louis said dismissively, earning a hurt frown from his daughter.  With some difficulty, he bent over and retrieved the food Liam had placed on the floor and ferried them to the kitchen table.  “Going to if you don’t get your ass out of here in the next five minutes though,” he muttered to himself.

“Papa, _no_ ,” Rose gasped dramatically from her place in Liam’s arms.  “Bad word.  You need to go to time out.”  She crossed her arms over her chest and waited, perhaps still a little upset that he had so casually dismissed their awesome day together.

The only thing that kept Liam from laughing was the genuinely guilty look on Louis’ face – and he suspected that it had very little to do with his use of inappropriate language.  “Why don’t you go ahead and start eating dinner,” he suggested, putting Rose in one of the wooden chairs and opening up a box of chicken tenders and fries.  “I’ll take papa into the kitchen and ensure that he’s thoroughly reprimanded.”

Though he doubted she knew what that meant, she nodded along in agreement, happily munching on the salty fried food.

“Why are you here?” Louis asked once they were in the relative privacy of the other room.  “You’re supposed to be out.  Having fun.”

“I can have fun here.”

“Tonight was supposed to be special, Li.  It’s supposed to be about you.  I already feel terrible about not being able to come – I’m your best man, for fuck’s sake – but please don’t sacrifice your own happiness because you feel sorry for me.”  He had already accepted that Harry tended to do that for him; he couldn’t bear it if Liam did too.

“What makes you think this has anything to do with you?”

Louis, who had been avoiding eye contact, looked up at this.  “What do you mean?”

Liam was half amused, half irritated – not an uncommon combination when it came to his relationship with Louis.  “Anyone that I would be seeing tonight I will just see tomorrow – which, for the majority of them, is still one time to many.”  When Louis still looked perplexed, Liam placed his hands gently on his shoulders.  “My life is gonna change tomorrow, Lou.  It’s never gonna be just me anymore. And I’d very much like to spend the last night as my old self hanging out with my best friend watching football and eating shit food and talking about everything and nothing until the wee hours of the morning.  Is that too much to ask?”

Louis still highly suspected that Liam was just trying to make him feel better… but it was working, so he didn’t press the issue.

The three of them spent the evening watching musicals and acting out the parts along with them.  They had cupcakes delivered to the house because they were too lazy and cozy to actually go out and get them; and they subsequently all had to take baths because as much frosting ended up in their hair as it did in their mouths.  They broke at least one picture frame from kicking the football around in the house.

It may not have been a traditional bachelor party, but it ended up being pretty perfect.

Once Rose had been put to bed, it was just the two of them snuggled up on the couch together watching whatever laughable infomercials came on tv after midnight.  Louis was sitting in the corner while Liam was sprawled out with his head on Louis’ lap – normally their positions would have been reversed, but it was getting uncomfortable for Louis to lie down on his back anymore.  Plus, between the kitten-like qualities of both his husband and daughter, Louis had gotten quite good at the soothing head scratches and, just like them, Liam was practically purring in response.

“Can I tell you something?” Liam eventually asked, and Louis hummed in affirmation.  “I’m… I’m a bit nervous.”

“About the wedding?  You planned it, mate – it’ll go off without a hitch.”

“I know.”  Liam was a meticulous strategist.  He had backup plans for his backup plans to ensure nothing would go wrong.  “Not that.  But, like, after.  Like, the whole ‘being married’ thing, you know?”

Louis paused to consider what it would be like being married to the raucous Irishman for the next half a century.  “Is it because you’ll still have to put up with Niall when you’re both a hundred years old and he won’t stop flirting with the nurses at your retirement home?”  Liam sat up and gave Louis a half-hearted whack with one of the throw pillows.  “Hey, delicate cargo over here.  Rosie may be a lost cause, but I can still condition these girls to like auntie Gemma better than you,” he threatened, patting his middle.

“I’m serious, Louis.”

“So am I.  You two are going to be annoying each other until the end of time, and you are going to love every minute of it.”

Liam smiled shyly.  “You really think so?”

Louis had half a mind to make another joke, but for some reason Liam seemed to need some legitimate reassuring.  “Liam, I know you better than I know most of my own family.  And fucking everyone knows Niall better than they ever wanted to.”  Niall had no filter on a normal day, and on days when he’d had a few he was likely to share things that would make a porn star blush.  “So believe me when I say you two are perfect for each other.”

Liam’s smile widened briefly, then morphed into something more of a mischievous smirk.  “Can I, um, tell you why else I’m a bit nervous?”

“Why’s that?” Louis asked, rocking forward in an attempt to grab the family size bag of M&Ms that was resting on the coffee table.  He needed sustenance if he was going to continue giving such sage, heartfelt advice.

“Because I’m pregnant.”

“ _What!_ ”  Louis simultaneously jumped and swiveled around so quickly the candy went flying and for several seconds a heavy torrent of colorful chocolates rained down in the space between them.

Louis continued to stare at him, wide-eyed and gobsmacked, and Liam’s chest stuttered as he attempted to hold back his laughter.  “Pregnant.  I believe you are quite familiar with the phenomenon,” he teased, plucking an orange shell from where it had conveniently landed on Louis’ stomach and popping it in his mouth. 

There were a thousand and one things rattling around in Louis’ brain – the how and then when and the holy crap – but all that came out was, “Always figured you for a top.” 

“Louis!”  Liam practically choked on the piece of chocolate, slinking back into the couch cushions and turning red all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I just… wow.  And… yeah, wow.  But that’s great, Liam.  Really.”

There was silence for a few moments, but when he heard the sound of Louis’ sniffles, Liam unearthed himself from the depths of the furniture.  “Shit, I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Louis waved his hand in front of him dismissively.  “As you’ll soon discover, pregnant people cry over absolutely everything.  Not just when they’re upset.”

“Alright, then what are these tears for?”

Louis used one of the sleeves of his oversized sweatshirt to wipe the moisture from beneath his nose and laughed wetly.  “Me and my best friend are- are knocked up at the same time.”  Liam cocked an eyebrow at him.  “It’s kind of awesome.”

The happy moments always got to Liam, which was why his eyes were streaming despite being crinkled up in the corners from the impossibly wide smile plastered on his face.  He launched himself at Louis, wedging himself between the back of the couch and Louis’ body so that he was tucked under Louis’ arm with his head resting on his shoulder.  Liam’s hand found its way to Louis’ stomach and one of the girls promptly rolled over, as if drawn to the outside contact. 

“I appreciate you being the one to tell me, but you know everyone at your wedding is gonna know by tomorrow, right?  Your fiancé can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“Niall doesn’t know.”

“Liam,” Louis began.  He of all people should know how destructive it could be to keep a secret like this from your partner.

“Well I only just found out this morning.”  Louis continued to stare him down until he confessed the real reason he hadn’t told Niall yet.  “And he was so excited about tonight.  I didn’t want to, you know, ruin the fun by saddling him with literally the biggest responsibility you can have in life.”

Louis pulled away slightly so he could look directly into Liam’s face and found that his brows were creased in worry.  “Are we still just talking about tonight?”

Liam shrugged his free shoulder.  “It’s not like… we weren’t exactly trying, you know?”  They weren’t exactly not trying either, though – their sexual exploits tended to be on the more adventurous side, which sometimes necessitated a certain degree of spontaneity and therefore carelessness.  “They always say that the first year of marriage is the hardest; and now adding a baby into the mix?  What if- what if we’re not ready for that?”

“You two have basically been married for years; the piece of paper is just a formality.  And you’ve been taking care of me since we were teenagers.  And I know me – newborns are easier.”  When this failed to get a rise out of him, Louis disentangled himself from Liam’s grasp and got down on his knees on the floor so that he could face him.  He placed a hand on Liam’s still obnoxiously chiseled abs and smiled down at him.  “I know this is scary.  You are a perfectionist, and you are going to mess up.  A lot.  Both of you are.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”

“It should.  Because you’re not going to be perfect and you’re not going to get it right the first time every time.  You’ll be exhausted and you’ll fight over stupid shit and doubt every decision you make… and in the end you’ll love each other in ways you couldn’t even imagine.  For the way you hold each other together when everything else is falling apart.  For the way you try to push him away and it only makes him tighten his grip.  For the way he looks at you when he’s h-holding his little girl for the first time.”  Alright, maybe he wasn’t just talking about Liam and Niall anymore.  Louis took in a trembling breath and looked toward the ceiling until he had his tear ducts more firmly under control.  “And learning how to love each other through all that?  That’s exactly what’s going to _make_ yours a forever kind of love.”

Liam pulled Louis on top of him in a hug that was all awkward angles, but he’d never felt more secure.  “Thank you.”

Louis cleared his throat and tried to straighten up, but Liam wasn’t quite ready to let him go.  “Just know that if it’s a boy, there’s no way in hell I’m letting him marry one of my girls, Payno.”

As careful and detailed Liam had been in planning for every eventuality, there was one thing he couldn’t control – the people.  Niall had apparently invited all of Ireland, and they had apparently all accepted and brought a plus one.  Half the wedding party was still drunk from the night before.  Several of the guests were up and dancing in the aisles.  There was hooting and hollering and whistling and lewd suggestions thrown from all sides – as well as a few actual items thrown toward the couple.  Most of those items were innocuous – flowers and streamers and the like – but it was much more akin to a rock concert than a wedding.

Then at the reception, things really started to get crazy.  Party guests joined the professional band on stage to perform their own renditions of some classic ballads.  Rose, at Louis’ direction, had inadvertently started a food fight while attempting to distract everyone from the fact that Liam had avoided partaking in the inaugural champagne toast.  Innocent party games were either turned into drinking games or modified to become so raunchy that they really shouldn’t have been played in public.

It was a frat party wrapped in lace. 

Still, it was not without sentimentality.  Everyone had expected Louis to be the one to be all happy tears, but Liam ended up being the one to turn on the waterworks at regular intervals.  When Niall whispered something sweet in his ear for only him to hear during their first dance.  When Louis gave his speech that had a few last minute additions about being able to share in all of life’s little unexpected blessings together.  When they’d cut open the cake and revealed that Harry had carved out the interior and hidden pictures from the early days of their relationship inside.

At the end of the night the newlyweds did the traditional walk through the crowd of waving sparklers to get in the back of a limo and drive off to their honeymoon.  However, about five seconds later – and while the vehicle was still moving – Niall had thrown open the door and was running back through the throngs of people screaming about how he was going to be a father, waving his arms around wildly and cackling with manic excitement the entire time.  While everyone was focused on this display, Louis snuck a peek into the back of the limo.  Seeing Liam’s slightly horrified expression, Louis simply shrugged – in his opinion, it was Liam’s own fault for breaking the news while they were anywhere within 20 miles of other people.

“Did you know about this?” Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow at his husband’s poorly veiled unsurprise.

Louis tilted his chin up and pursed his lips in the beginnings of a smile.  “Liam’s been the first to know about all of my pregnancies.”  Generally before Louis himself even knew.  “S’only fitting that I be the first to know about his.”

After the chaos of matrimony had settled down and life got back to normal, Louis ended up having a little too much time on his hands.  With so much time to think, he was having trouble staying on top of his anxious thoughts.  As his therapist had explained – on multiple occasions – allowing those thoughts to go unchecked didn’t just have an effect on his mental state.  Thoughts affected perceptions and emotions, which then affected behaviors and responses, which then went back in a feedback loop to generate more damaging thoughts, and so on.

Louis claimed that he was getting better – which he was, damnit – but then he was having a little trouble getting out of bed, and then he felt nauseous and didn’t want to eat anything, and then he cried when he received a package from his boss that had two matching little football outfits and was convinced that they weren’t going to let him return to work ever again.  And Harry did not want to take any chances on this spiraling out of control.

It had been easy enough for Louis to ignore the trauma of his childhood for the time being – he could deal with that can of worms later – because it had been a long time since he’d had to encounter the people and places that stimulated those memories.  But the triggers of his current anxiety – past arguments and the physical changes in his body and all the pain and loss they’d experienced both together and separately – were still very much present in his everyday surroundings.

So the next step involved not just replacing negative thoughts with positive ones, but actually overwriting bad experiences with happy memories.

Louis’ homework was to make a list of everywhere he could think of that tended to make him anxious just by thinking about being there – the nursery, their bedroom, his office, the football stadium.  Then, one by one over the next few weeks, they – meaning mostly Harry – would plan and execute some of the most wonderfully memorable moments of Louis’ life.  And hopefully that would be enough to get Louis to full-term.

For the nursery, Harry wrote a lullaby for the twins and serenaded Louis by candlelight with his guitar and a platter of his favorite pastries.  In their bedroom, Harry pampered Louis with some of the pregnancy massage techniques he’d learned from the spa he’d taken Louis to weeks earlier and then made love to him in what could only be described as an act of worship until Louis was convinced that he was as beautiful and amazing as Harry always told him he was.  Their office held a joint baby shower for both Louis and Niall, which ended up being almost as raucous as the wedding had been, and at which time they unveiled a brand new permanent nameplate for Louis’ office door – so… he wasn’t getting fired.  While Louis was still unable to fulfill his dream of playing the pitch at the stadium, he did get to eat questionably fresh popcorn and watch Rose score a goal with their favorite (and very gracious and accommodating) third tier football team with Harry’s arm slung around his shoulder.

By the time they had run through the entire list – and after Louis had insisted several times that there was still some bad juju in the bedroom and they would just have to make even more pleasant memories to overcome it – Louis was in a better place mentally than he probably had been in his entire life.

Harry could see the difference it made.  Despite beginning to grow almost as wide as he was tall, Louis had enough energy to chase their daughter around and do chores during the day and satisfy his hormonally charged sexual urges at night.  Louis’ tongue was still quick and sharp, but he was now giggling when he would have been sobbing or yelling.  He seemed to literally glow, inside and out, and Harry thought that maybe he could benefit from a bit of that healing energy too.

Without telling Louis where they were going, he drove them into the city, dropping Rose off at Gemma’s on the way.  Louis was busy chattering away, but paused when Harry pulled him to a stop outside the doors of a restaurant.  Harry visibly tensed and Louis gave him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong, love?”  All Harry had said about today was that he had some negativity in his past to replace with something positive too, but Louis was fairly certain he’d never even been to this place before.  “Why are we here?”

Harry gave him a tight-lipped smile and squeezed the hand that was holding tightly to his.  “Let’s just go in.”

Upon entering, Louis didn’t notice anything particularly scary or ominous about the place, but he was willing to be patient until Harry was ready to talk about whatever had happened here.  He kept quiet while they waited an extra 15 minutes for a particular booth even though they could have been seated elsewhere right away.  He kept quiet when Harry ordered food but never even touched it.  He even kept quiet when Harry announced that he was going to the bathroom and requested that Louis come with him.

It wasn’t until they were standing there together in silence in the harsh lighting surrounded by tile patterns so ugly that their pristine cleanliness actually made them look worse that Louis finally asked, “What happened here, Haz?”  Harry’s breathing quickened and Louis wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned into him.  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

Harry swiped at a tear that had escaped down his cheek and bent to kiss the top of Louis’ head.  “I know, but I need to.”  It was time to let Louis’ light into the darkest part of his heart.  “This is- this is where, uhm, I lost…”  He took in a shuddering breath and let it out again slowly.  “This is where I was when we lost the baby.”

This was Harry’s trauma – except, as Harry had just acknowledged for what was probably the first time, this loss belonged to both of them – but Louis was the one who broke down in that moment.  Gemma had given him a brief description of the incident at the time and now Louis could almost see it – his beautiful, happy, hopeful husband scared and alone and in pain on the cold floor between the unfamiliar walls.  He clung to Harry as wave after unexpected wave of grief washed over him, leaving behind a cathartic calm in waters that Louis hadn’t even realized were storming within him.

“I don’t have any happy memories to give you here,” Louis finally sniffled, his forehead pressed to Harry’s.

Harry placed one hand on Louis’ tummy and cupped the other around his cheek – it was everything he ever loved, everything he ever needed.  And it was enough.  “This is my happy memory.”

They held each other for a long time after that.  They kissed and touched with a fragile tenderness and enjoyed the feeling of their daughters moving around full of life beneath their hands.  And when their tears had dried and they were finally able to smile through the heartache, they locked their pinkies together in a silent promise that this – this one thing that had happened in this one place that had almost been enough to break them apart – was now truly at peace.


	18. The Best Thing I Ever Did

Everyone expected Louis to go into labor early.  Given his previous stint in the hospital and continued tendency toward stress, the doctor told him to just shoot for 32 weeks.  That was their goal.

At 31 weeks and four days, Louis began having what he claimed were Braxton-Hicks contractions.  Unconvinced, Harry talked him into being taken to the emergency room, where they were quickly checked over and sent back home.  They called it false labor, but in Harry’s opinion, it could have just as easily been his husband’s unwavering stubbornness refusing to let their children leave his womb until their prescribed target date.

When the 32 week mark passed, everyone started watching Louis like a hawk – like nature would suddenly press the fast-forward button and these babies _wouldn’t_ take at least a full day to exit his body once they were ready.  Someone was always at the house – usually more than one someone – and though they were just concerned, just trying to help, the anxiety that Louis had worked so hard to dispel was slowly trying to work its way back into his thoughts. 

Then 33 weeks passed.  Then 34 and 35.  By 36 weeks, most of their family and friends were either staying at the house or on-call at a nearby hotel.  They meant well, but the last couple months had shown Louis that he needed to voice his needs aloud if he wanted to ensure they were met.  And right now – after his third reluctant trip to the doctor only to be sent home with the same diagnosis – what he needed was for people to stop looking at him like he was a ticking time bomb.

“I know you all think I’m gonna, like, explode any second,” and _god_ did Louis kind of feel that way most of the time, “but I have spent the last few months reestablishing this whole mind-body connection shit my therapist keeps going on about, so I’d like to think that _I’d_ be the one to inform _you_ when these babies are coming.  Not to mention, I’m the only one who’s done this before.”  Anne cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows.  “Alright fine, but it’s been a while for you, yeah?”

“Louis!” Liam chastised, horrified that his best friend had basically just called his mother-in-law old.

The corner of Anne’s mouth quirked up in an amused smirk.  “I’ll let that one slide, but only because you are giving me two new granddaughters to spoil.”

“What are you saying?” Harry asked, trying to keep the conversation from being derailed.  “What do you need us to do?”

Louis sighed and willed his next words not to sound as mean out loud as they did in his head.  “It’s what I need to you to stop doing.  It’s like… it’s a bit stifling sometimes, you know?”

“What are you on about?”  Of course Gemma was the first to speak up.  “You don’t want our help anymore?  Pretty bad timing, considering mum’s just moved in with you.”

“Gemma!” Anne had half a mind to ground her adult daughter for speaking before thinking – she’d had to do so many times during the independent child’s wild youth, but apparently the lesson had been lost on her.  “You know I offered to help out when the babies got here.”  She turned to Harry.  “I’m more than happy to do it, baby.”  Then, turning to Louis, “But if you don’t want me here, it’s no trouble at all for me to pop back home.  Honestly, most of my things are still packed.  I can be out of your hair in a few hours.”

“No, I didn’t- it’s not—“  Louis knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they would need all hands on deck once all the kids were in the house.  But until that time, all these helping hands were just sitting around.  Waiting.  On Louis.  Everyone was giving up so much of their time and energy for him, and he almost felt guilty for _not_ going into labor yet.  “I just… I don’t need someone to babysit me.”

“We care about you, Lou.  We’re not—“ Liam began before he was cut off by Gemma, who had stood up from her seat at the remark.

“ _Babysit_ you?  I’m sorry, I thought we were graciously helping out in your time of need.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my niece – but don’t you think there are things I’d rather be doing every Saturday night besides watching her because Harry’s working and you can barely get off the fucking couch by yourself?”

At this, Lottie also rose to her feet so she could stare Gemma down.  “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Me?  I don’t have a problem – in fact, no one’s allowed to have problems besides this one, right?”  She waved her hand in a sweeping gesture toward the figure enveloped in Harry’s arms.

“Gemma, stop.”  Harry was seething, but he was torn between throttling his sister and comforting Louis, who was only barely holding it together.

“Yeah, chill out, sis,” Niall added with a little more bite than his usually genial tone.  “We’re all here because we love each other and want to be there for each other.”

“Oh really?  Is that why you two were screaming at each other in the driveway an hour ago?”

“What?”  Louis twisted out of Harry’s embrace so he could look at his best friend, who was currently clutching a throw pillow tightly to his chest and avoiding eye contact.  “You’re fighting?”

“We are in the middle of a _slight_ disagreement about our current employment situation.”  Niall glared at Gemma.  “Not that it’s any of your damn business.”

“I- I didn’t know.  Are you—?”  Louis waited until Liam met his eyes and gave a slight smile and a shrug.  “I didn’t know,” he mumbled again.

“That’s right.  You didn’t know.  Just like I bet you didn’t know that your sister’s having money problems.”

“Lots?”  Louis turned to Lottie with a pleading gaze, but she didn’t deny the claim.

“Had to spot her some money for gas just to get down here today.  To see you.  Again.”

“Everything’s fine; we’re figuring it out,” Lottie said between clenched teeth, more accusation to Gemma than comfort to Louis.

“That’s enough.”  Harry’s anger finally won out and he stood to join what was soon to be an all-out brawl.  “I get it.  We’ve all got problems.  We’ve all got shit to deal with.”

“Even you?”  Gemma put a hand to her chest in mock surprise.

“Of course!  But none of that matters.  Nothing could be more important to me than—”

“Of course it matters.”  Ironically, though this whole fight was about Louis, everyone seemed to have forgotten he was there until his small but determined voice broke through the current bickering.  “It all matters.”  Twice he attempted to get up from the couch on his own before resigning to take Anne’s offered hand.  Once upright, Louis looked around the room, taking time to hold the gaze of each of the people he held most dear.  “I’m sorry.  I never meant to ignore what was going on in your lives, or to sound ungrateful for the part you’ve been playing in mine.”  He pursed his lips and chewed on the inside of his cheek.  “I just… I hope you know that I love you all, and I couldn’t do any of this without you.  Excuse me.” 

Louis started shuffling toward the front door, but Harry caught up to him before he could step through it.

“Where are you going?  Please don’t leave.”

“I can’t be here right now, Haz.”  He couldn’t keep staring into all of the faces of the people that he had continually let down and taken advantage of.

“Gemma was out of line.  I don’t know why she said those things, but it wasn’t—“

“She was right.”

“No.  She wasn’t.”

“It’s okay.  I- I know I’ve been selfish lately.”

“You’ve been focused on taking care of yourself.  There’s a difference.”

That was splitting hairs, in Louis’ opinion, but he let Harry have it.  “Fine.  But either way, I haven’t exactly been able to be a good friend – a good brother or son – lately.”  And honestly, he could be okay with that if it meant his girls were healthy and happy.  But it still sucked to be reminded of it.

Harry stepped in closer and leaned down to press his forehead to Louis’.  “Well I can’t speak for anyone else, but I personally think you are an incredible husband.”  He tilted his head forward to kiss Louis lightly on the tip of his nose.  “And if Rose were not currently zonked out in the sea of stuffed animals that she calls a bed, I am certain that she would call you a veritable superhero of a father.”

Louis very much doubted that their four-year-old could use the word ‘veritable’ in a sentence, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.  “Thank you.  But I still, I need… I need space.  For a bit.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know – to clear my head?  Process things?  Go to my happy place until my thoughts and emotions can get their shit together?”

Harry sighed – as much as Louis mocked and rolled his eyes about the exercises his therapist gave him, they seemed to help and he was dedicated to employing them in stressful situations.  “Can’t you do that here?  We can go – you can have the whole house to yourself.”

Louis suppressed a cringe at the suggestion.  “You can’t just kick everyone out – they’re here because of me.”  He glanced longingly at the still half-open door.  “Please?  I won’t be gone long.”

“What if something happens?”

“I’m just going for a little walk in the park.  Plus they have these amazing little devices called mobile phones nowadays.  Make it so you can call anyone, anytime, from anywhere.”

Harry frowned down at him, but couldn’t exactly argue.  “At least let me take you over there.”  Louis had given up driving weeks ago, and would thus have to waddle his very pregnant self across the whole neighborhood in order to get there.

“Ah, but it’s all about the journey, not the destination.”  Louis risked his balance to surge up on his toes and kiss the small wrinkle between Harry’s brows.  “I’ll be fine.”  And if he wasn’t, Harry would be the first to know.  “Lasagna for dinner?  I’ll be back before it’s out of the oven.” 

Louis scurried out the door before Harry could answer.  And Harry… Harry was going to go have a word with his sister.

Despite Louis’ assurances, Harry ended up texting him about every half hour to make sure he was okay.  In response, Louis sent him pictures of whatever he happened to be pondering at that moment that allowed him to live in and appreciate the present and let go of the negative thoughts of the past that tried to creep up – a blossoming tree, the iced chai latte in his hands, one of those hybrid ‘doodle’ dogs that had come up and nuzzled its nose against his belly.

They were totally getting a doodle dog, he decided.

It was peak summer temperatures, though, and this fact was not lost on Louis’ already overheated body.  When he finally found refuge at a picnic table under some shade trees, the walk back home started to seem less than doable.

So when Harry texted him again, right on schedule, he sent back a picture of his sweaty face pulled into some goofy expression with the caption – _Return service requested._

Within a few minutes, the wooden seat jumped as a weight settled on the bench opposite him, but when Louis looked up it wasn’t Harry that was studying him.

“Whatever apology Harry forced you to come here and deliver, you don’t have to give it.  You’re allowed to feel however you want – I know we’ve been asking a lot from you lately.  All of you.”

“First of all, I know I’m allowed to feel how I feel – I have my own therapist too, you know,” Gemma said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  “And second, my brother has never been able to force me to do anything I didn’t already want to do.”

“…so?” Louis prompted when she didn’t continue.

“So, when I say I’m sorry, I mean that I really am sorry.  And I am.  Sorry, that is.”  Gemma wrinkled her nose at the amount of times the word ‘sorry’ had just exited her mouth.  “I was upset because Charlie bailed on my culturally stimulating company in favor of some classically gorgeous but airheaded beautician, so now I’m single again and have to start all over with all this unnecessary pressure society places on women to have it all together by a certain age and blah, blah, blah.  Meanwhile, my brother and his partner are over here looking like the perfect picture of domesticity and tooth-rotting fluff and I just… maybe I’m a little jealous.  Or frustrated.  But either way, I was an ass to you when you were just trying to express how you were feeling.  You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.”

There was a full minute of silence before Louis finally nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

“Okay?  That’s it?  Maybe these pregnancy hormones don’t actually live up to the hype.”

Louis gave her a small smile.  “Trust me, they have their moments.  But this isn’t one of them.  I know how lucky I am to have all of you in my life.”  He looked down and placed a hand at the top of his sizeable swell.  “And most of the time, I know I don’t deserve it.  Any of it.”

“Louis—“

“But they do.”  He wrapped both arms around his stomach and looked up toward the sky.  “They deserve more than I could ever have in me to give.  Because… ‘cause there are days I can’t find a single goddamn thing in myself worth giving.  So you can say whatever you want to about me – whatever it is, it’s probably true.  But because of you – because of this family, both chosen and by blood –my girls will never go a single day without knowing how so very much they are loved.  Never have to doubt that they are wanted.”  He tilted his head back down to meet Gemma’s eyes and found that they were glassy.  “And I will always, always be grateful to you for that.”

Gemma laughed through a few unbidden tears and reached out to take Louis’ hand.  “I love you too, you know.  You’re like the brother I never had.”  Louis cocked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged unapologetically.  “The one I do have can’t play Scrabble for shit.”

At this, they both dissolved into fits of laughter before beginning the arduous task of getting Louis on his feet and over to the car.  And as promised, they walked through the door just as the pasta dish was placed in the middle of the dining room table.

Six days later – exactly one day before Louis would be considered ‘full term’ with twins – something changed.  Louis had become very in tune with every regular ache and pain in his body, but overnight there had been a shift.  The twins had been relatively still as he rested – an unusual occurrence that had allowed him to get a proper night’s sleep for the first time in months.  And when Louis woke up, he could actually _feel_ that the babies were lower in his pelvis, giving his squished stomach and lungs a bit more room to function properly.

Though Harry was curious when Louis was able to wolf down a full plate of pancakes and bacon, he was downright suspicious when Louis suggested that they all walk down to the neighborhood playground and let Rose release some of her stir-crazy energy.  And okay, maybe Louis was feeling a little restless as well.

“Are you feeling alright?” Harry finally asked once their daughter was happily zooming around the jungle gym.

Louis smiled up at his husband – he was feeling better than he had in a while.  “Just enjoying our last few moments together as a family of three.”

Harry’s eyes widened as his eyes whipped frantically between Louis’ stomach and his bewilderingly serene expression.  “You’re in labor?” he practically squeaked, but Louis shook his head.  “Contractions?”

“No.  Not yet.”  Louis bit his lip – his intuition sounded a little silly when faced with a lack of actual evidence.  “I don’t know, I can’t really explain it.  Just… don’t plan on going in to work tomorrow, yeah?”

Neither of them said anything more about it to each other, but Harry must have mentioned something to his mum, based on the way Anne kept fussing over Louis after they got home. 

It wasn’t until dinnertime that Louis finally felt the first real painful tightening sensation deep in his core.  It came upon him suddenly and with greater intensity than expected, and he couldn’t help the deep, breathy groan his throat produced of its own accord in response.

“Lou?” Harry questioned, and it was then that Louis realized Harry had gotten up to kneel beside his chair.

“Yeah,” Louis answered his unasked question on a nervous laugh.

“What’s wrong with papa?” Rose asked the collective table, joining in on Louis’ other side.

“I’m okay, baby,” Louis assured her, running his fingers through her hair and leaning over to kiss the crown of her head.  “Your sisters are just anxious to come out and meet you.”

Rose squealed and spun around excitedly in place.  “Finally!”  She turned her attention to Louis’ bump.  “We can share all my favorite toys, and I can teach you the ABCs and how to write your letters, and- and I can bring you to school with me next week so you won’t ever have to play by yourself, and- and—“

“We went over this, love, remember?”  Louis sighed.  He loved how excited she was to be a big sister, but he really didn’t think she had any concept of what life was actually going to be like once they got here.  “It’ll be a while before they’re big enough to do most of those things.”  She pouted and Louis looked pleadingly to Harry for assistance. 

“But you’ll be able to do other stuff,” Harry explained.  “You’ll be able to hold them and feed them.  You can even play them that song you learned on the piano.”

Rose smiled proudly, appeased, and laid her head in Louis’ lap, her small hand ghosting over the silhouette of his stomach.  “You’re lucky, babies,” she whispered, though not effectively enough that the adults couldn’t hear.  “We’ve got the best daddies in the whole world.”

The declaration would have been enough to have Louis in tears if another contraction hadn’t chosen that moment to pierce through his midsection.  He inhaled sharply and clutched desperately at Harry’s outstretched hand in an attempt to avoid frightening their daughter with his pain.

When he again relaxed, Anne smoothly suggested that she and Rose go have some playtime upstairs before bed.  The little girl was reluctant to leave, knowing that they would be gone when she woke up again, but was finally appeased when they told her that that simply meant she would be a big sister next time they came home.

“What do we do now?” Harry asked once they were alone, smiling up at Louis and brushing away the hair that had fallen in his face.

“Distract me until they’re allowed to give me the good drugs?” Louis suggested.

The first time around, Harry had been the calm, cool, and collected one.  So now that Louis was the one at peace with the slow torture afflicting his body, he was rather enjoying watching Harry run around the house, checking their bags and chucking things into the minivan Louis had reluctantly agreed to purchase once they realized they would need to fit three car seats into a single vehicle.

His amusement didn’t last long, however, as it only took a few hours before Louis found himself bent over leaning on the back of the couch, hips swaying and moaning softly with the pressure that was steadily building between his legs.  Harry was furiously kneading the tense muscles in his lower back, but that only seemed to allow the now loosened muscle to pull tighter.

“I think we should go to the hospital,” Louis finally said when he finally regained control of his breath.

“Things really ramped up quickly once I left the room, huh?” Anne asked as she descended the stairs, having effectively tucked her granddaughter in for the night.

“Are you sure?  Your water hasn’t broken yet and the contractions are still pretty irregular,” Harry commented, ignoring his mother’s attempt at levity.

Of course Louis knew that – he was painfully aware every time he was doubled over after 20 minutes of nothing, then again 2 minutes later, then again 5 or 10 or who the fuck cared how many minutes because it _hurt_.  And that same little voice in the back of his head that had told him he would go into labor today was currently screaming at him to get his ass to a delivery room.  Now.  “Please?  I think—“  As if to prove his point, another contraction came out of left field and would have had Louis on his knees if Harry’s arms hadn’t been there to catch him.  “Fuck, can we just go?” he managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“You’ll be alright with Rose?” Harry confirmed, to which Anne nodded.

“We’ll be fine.  And I’ll let everyone else know you’re on your way to have a baby.”

“Two,” Louis corrected with a grumble, earning a quick kiss on the temple from Harry.

“They can meet you there.”

“Thanks, mum.”

“We’ll come by for a visit soon,” she promised as Harry practically carried Louis out to the car.

The drive to the hospital was relatively short, but it took everything Louis had not to brace his feet up on the dashboard and start pushing right then and there.  But he didn’t particularly want to ruin their new car with blood and birthing fluids, and so panted and gasped his way through several more contractions until they blessedly pulledinto the emergency room entrance.

“Whoa, looks like we might have to skip the paperwork for now,” the receptionist commented, noting Louis’ hunched and huffing form and signaling for a wheelchair to be brought over.

“We called ahead – Louis Tomlinson-Styles,” Harry explained as he helped lower Louis down into the seat that had been provided.

“Right,” she said, thumbing through a pile of papers and pulling one out to lay on the counter in front of him.  “Just sign here and we’ll work the rest out later.”

“Fuck!” Louis cried, curling in on himself as his hand reached out for Harry’s.

“I’m right here,” Harry soothed, scrawling out what may have contained a few discernible letters of his name before kneeling down to focus on helping his husband through the pain.  “Deep breaths.  With me, love.”

By the time they’d been wheeled into a room and gotten Louis changed into a hospital gown, his water had broken and it was like a dam had burst.  Running on pure instinct – his body was doing whatever the hell it wanted, with or without the input or consent of his brain – he pulled his knees toward his chest and began bearing down against the overwhelming pressure.

“Dr. Reid is on her way,” a nurse informed them as she dragged in some monitoring equipment.

“Correction – Dr. Reid is here,” their favorite physician said as she whisked into the room.  “I can always look forward to an adventure when you two are in the building, eh?”  Louis almost laughed, but it quickly turned into a grimace as he scrunched up his face and started pushing again.  “Okay, okay, I can see we are in a hurry.  When did the contractions begin?”

“Maybe five hours ago?” Harry supplied – he had stopped looking at the clock once it was clear that it did no good to bother timing said contractions.

“Too fast,” Louis whispered once he had released his breath and relaxed back against the bed.  “It’s not supposed to happen this fast.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years doing this, it’s that there’s no ‘supposed to’ when it comes to giving birth.  Babies come when and how they want – ready or not.”

“I was supposed to have an epidural this time,” Louis whined as the nurse waved the ultrasound wand around on his stomach to check on the babies’ stress levels.

“Both girls are looking good – strong heartbeats, and Baby A’s head is down.”

“I can see that, Katie – he’s already crowning,” Dr. Reid said dryly, snapping on a pair of gloves as she reached between Louis’ legs, gently nudging them further apart to make room for the newborn that would soon emerge between them.

“What?  He is?  You are?”  Harry sneaked a peek at the end of the bed and tears immediately sprang to his eyes.  “Fuck, she’s right there, Lou.”

Although Harry seemed taken off guard by the observation, Louis knew the exact moment his daughter’s head began entering the world.  “Shitshitshit.”  Louis continued to release a litany of curses and little grunts of effort while pounding a fist against the bed with one hand and squeezing the shit out of Harry’s hand with the other.

“You’re doing so good.”  Harry kissed the hand that was clutched in his.  “So proud of you, baby.”

“Little pushes for me, Louis.  That’s it – good, good.”  They hadn’t even had time to break down the bed, so Dr. Reid perched herself on the end of it.  “Head’s almost out.”

Harry was able to pivot his body enough to both keep his grip on Louis’ hand and watch as his second daughter’s head popped out of Louis’ body.  “Hey, baby girl,” Harry said wetly as she spun to the side, her squishy little red face turning fully to face him.  “Guess you were ready to stretch your legs, huh?” he asked, reaching beneath Louis’ bent leg to brush his fingertips across her waxy cheek.  “You are so amazing.  I love you so much.”  Harry kissed Louis’ knee, then worked his way quickly up Louis’ leg and stomach and chest until finally pressing lightly against his lips.  “Thank you for doing this.”

“I would do anything for you,” Louis said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  His whole body was shaking and trembling with exertion and probably the slightest bit of shock, but he managed to cup a hand around Harry’s neck, his thumb brushing along his beautifully defined jawline.  “And our girls?  They’re the best thing I’ll ever do in this world.”  There was so much more he wanted to say, but right now those ‘best things’ were demanding all of his attention.  “Jesus, fuck!”

“Good push, Louis!  She’s almost here,” Dr. Reid exclaimed as she pulled over a table of clamps and bulbs and other shiny sterile instruments.  “3… 2… 1… and, go!  Again, again, go go go.  Here she comes.”

The last several hours – hell, the entire last year – had just been one big confusing blur of pain and love and uncertainty and excitement and had culminated in this very moment and now Harry was weeping quietly beside him and there was this soft wet helpless mass of pink limbs and pinched features flailing against his chest and Louis… was so very much in love.

“Look what we made, Haz,” he cooed, tearing his eyes away only long enough to witness the full, undiluted look of awe and wonder lighting up Harry’s face – a look that Louis was now kicking himself for having missed out on when Rose was first born.

“She’s big,” Harry laughed, earning a whack in the arm from Louis.  “You know what I mean.”  Everyone always cautioned that twins would come early, that they would be smaller and may need a little more help once they were born.  But this little girl was perfect.

“Nngh,” Louis groaned in sudden discomfort – a reminder that he would soon be having to do that for a second time.

“Next one should come a little easier,” Dr. Reid promised, “although I don’t know how it could be much quicker – 35 minutes from walking in the door to delivery has got to be close to some kind of record for me.”

“How long?” Harry asked.

“As I said, babies tend to keep their own schedules.  Could be 10 minutes, could be 2 hours, could be tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Louis finally piped up, craning his neck to glare at their doctor.

“At least if it takes that long you’ll finally be able to get your epidural,” she winked.

The nurses let the three of them have a few moments of bonding time before trying to hook Louis up to any machines or take the baby away for her routine tests.  When a dull ache began again in his abdomen a couple minutes later, Louis suspected that he’d be closer to the 10 minute side of the spectrum.

But then that dull pain turned into something sharper – something wild and unnatural that felt very little like the controlled, methodical torment that labor was supposed to be.

“Hurts,” Louis whimpered weakly, suddenly a little lightheaded.

“Contractions?”  Harry rather hoped that their second girl would be born quickly so that Louis could finally rest.

“Something’s wrong.”  Louis was shaking his head trying to clear it, trying to focus on the questions that were being lobbed at him from all directions, but he couldn’t make sense of any of it and the abnormal pain in his stomach was only intensifying.  “Something’s wrong,” he reiterated.  “Something’s wrong, something’s _wrong_!”

Harry took the baby from Louis’ chest and watched helplessly as the nurse struggled to find some indication of what could be going on using the portable ultrasound machine.  Eventually Dr. Reid shouldered her out of the way and yanked Louis’ hospital gown all the way up, revealing the full expanse of his still rounded belly.  They all sucked in a collective breath at the deep purple color spreading slowly and insidiously beneath the skin.

Dr. Reid was the first to speak.  “He’s bleeding internally – we need to get this baby out _now._ Call the OR, then page the anesthesiologist.  Tell him to meet us there.  Have the NICU on standby.  Every second counts here.”

“What’s going on?  What does all that mean?”  Harry looked down at the little girl in his arms as she cried and gasped for air only to cry out again – he felt much like doing the same in this moment.  “Louis?  Lou!”  His eyes had closed, but fluttered open briefly at the sound of Harry’s voice desperately calling him back to consciousness.  “It’s okay.  Everything’s gonna be okay, you hear me?”

They had already started wheeling the bed out of the room with Louis’ crumpled form still on it, but Harry caught the fond smile that was still present on his lips beneath the contortions of pain.  “Best thing I ever did,” Louis murmured, eyes falling shut once more as he disappeared from Harry’s sight.


	19. The What Is and The What Is Meant To Be

_“I think we should break up.”  Saying the words hurt more than Louis would ever admit to himself, but it was for the best._

_Harry just barely refrained from rolling his eyes – he was getting tired of Louis pretending like he was little more than a casual date.  “What do you mean we should break up?”_

_“I mean we should start seeing other people.”  Or, rather, Louis thought Harry should start seeing other people – better people.  “We’ve been hanging out for a few months now—“ a year, Harry corrected in his head, “—and it’s just not working.  We haven’t even had time to be intimate, you know?  It would be an easy break.  Clean.”  Harry continued to stare at him – it wasn’t exactly an explanation and it certainly wasn’t by Harry’s choice.  “I just think it might be best for both of us to find someone that fits better into our respective lifestyles.”_

_“If this is really all about sex, we’ve got 20 minutes right now before our dinner reservations,” Harry challenged, stalking toward Louis and cornering him against the wall._

_“20 minutes?  My, my, someone’s feeling optimistic.”  The usual force of Louis’ sass was somewhat dampened by the slight tremor of anxiety coloring his tone.  Still, he refused to back down.  “Go ahead, then.  Ravage me.”_

_Harry moved in as close as he could without actually making physical contact with Louis.  His fingertips lightly grazed the outline of Louis’ delicate shoulders, traveled down his arms and hovered at the crest of his hips but never quite touching.  In the same manner, his lips ghosted over Louis’ forehead, his temple, his cheek, close enough that Harry could feel the heat radiating from Louis’ flushed face._

_And when Louis’ eyes fluttered shut, it wasn’t in surrender or ecstasy, but rather resignation.  And that... was exactly why Harry could not call his bluff._

_“Knew you didn’t have it in you,” Louis goaded when he realized Harry had taken a step back._

_“You aren’t ready to share that part of yourself with me yet, and I refuse to give you another reason to push me away.”_

_Louis wasn’t used to having his sarcasm countered with a serious response, and it threw him a bit off guard.  “I’m not pushing you away.  I’m saving you.  If we keep doing this… you won’t be happy.”_

_“I already am happy.”_

_“Maybe, right now, at this very moment.  But you won’t be happy forever and by then it’ll just be all that much harder when we do finally end things.”_

_“You don’t know that.”_

_“Yes, I do.  Because I can’t marry you and move to a big house in the country and have enough kids to start our own footie team.  And I know you want that, Haz.  And you should have it.  But… I’m just not that guy.”_

_“Louis—“_

_“And don’t tell me I might change my mind, alright?  It’s not… it’s not, like, a conscious decision I made.”  In fact, a small – though concernedly growing – part of him actually wanted those things too.  But he couldn’t have that life.  Shouldn’t have it, and didn’t deserve it.  “It’s just who I am.”  Or who his past had shaped him to be._

_“You’re right – I do want those things,” Harry began, and Louis’s stomach dropped.  But no, this was what he wanted.  This was what was best.  “But I only want them with you.”_

_“Don’t- you don’t mean that.”_

_“I do.  I want those things.  But Louis, you’re the thing I_ need _.  The only thing I’ll ever need in order to be happy.”_

_Louis was full on panicking now.  This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.  Harry wasn’t supposed to care about Louis.  He wasn’t supposed to be patient and kind and goddamn adorable.  He wasn’t supposed break through the walls that Louis had so meticulously constructed around all the things he kept hidden from the world._

_And most importantly, Louis wasn’t supposed to let him._

_But he did.  Without knowing when or how or why – and without knowing how desperately he wanted and needed to feel close to someone – this man had lit a match in the darkest part of Louis’ soul.  And what he saw when he was finally able to look inward at the shattered remains of the person he could have been only confirmed in his mind that Harry Styles deserved so much better._

_“You don’t need me.”  No one had ever needed him, not really.  “I’m- I’m broken.  God I’m so broken, Harry.”  In that moment, Louis did something he promised himself he would never do again – he sought refuge and comfort in the shelter of another’s arms.  For once there was no bravado, no false assurances or empty platitudes that masked what he was truly feeling.  “I’ve tried,” Louis finally said, swiping at the moisture under his nose with his sleeve.  “Fuck, I’ve tried so many times to put myself back together again, but it’s just… gone.  There are parts of me that are just missing and it’s not enough – it’ll never be enough.  Not for you, not for anyone.  Please,” he begged, “just leave me.  Before it’s too late.”  If they ended this now, Harry might hurt for a short while; but if this went any further, if Louis gave any more of the pieces of his heart to this one person, he would be absolutely destroyed when Harry inevitably left him for someone that could give him the life he’d always wanted._

_Harry sighed sadly, wrapping himself tighter around the man that had no idea how breathtaking he was.  Louis was like a stained glass window that hadn’t been put together yet – all bright colors and sharp edges, drawing you in and then cutting anyone who got too close.  He may still not be able to see himself as anything more than a pile of broken glass, but to Harry he would never be anything less than a masterpiece._

_“Louis, my darling, I don’t believe there is anything lacking in you.  But if you truly feel like there is something missing, I need you to know that I would gladly break myself into a thousand pieces and fill in whatever gaps you perceive to be within yourself in order to make you feel whole again.”_

_Louis searched Harry’s eyes.  They were soft, vulnerable, and sparkled with a sincerity and adoration that Louis would never feel worthy of.  But he was there – Louis had admitted his weakness and Harry was still there.  And it was then that Louis decided he would take his love for as long as Harry offered.  Because the longer he spent with Harry, the more he felt like they were becoming two halves of the same whole – and without one, the other would never be complete._

_Louis wrapped a leg around Harry’s waist and looked up at him a little too innocently through his long lashes.  “So, about those 20 minutes…”  He glanced at the clock and donned a mischievous smirk.  “Think you can do it in 10?”_

_“I think I better cancel the reservation,” Harry practically growled, using the thigh around his hips to hoist Louis fully off the floor and carry him toward the bedroom._

The memory of the first time he and Louis made love flashed through Harry’s mind as he waited for news on the condition of his husband.  It had not been the first time Louis had threatened to break up with him, but it was the first time he had trusted Harry enough to reveal the real reason _why_ he kept himself at such a distance.  And because of that, it was also the first time Harry could truly not imagine a future without Louis in it.

Now faced with that possibility, Harry was entirely at a loss.

He paced around the hospital’s nursery, swaying with his little girl clutched tightly against his chest.  He refused to put her down, and the nurses had a hell of a time prying her out of his arms long enough to take her measurements and perform their newborn tests and routines.

He watched the clock, pleading with it to either jump ahead to a time when he’d know everything would be okay or to rewind to the moments before he even knew there would be anything to worry about.  Instead, as if to mock him, it just seemed to stand still.  To tick, tick, tick endlessly without actually moving forward.

Though Harry could not perceive it, time must have been passing because eventually Lottie slipped in through the doors.  In his own bubble of isolation, Harry could convince himself that no one in the world existed besides him and his daughter.  But here was the very real, very hopeful and happy face of someone else that would feel the impact of whatever happened and it was… it was too much.

“Harry?” she asked, walking quickly over to him.  Glancing around the room, she found it empty aside from a few nurses.  He had an odd expression on his face – some mixture of pain and anger and helplessness poorly concealed behind a mask of stoicism.  It reminded her of a look she’d seen on many social workers’ faces growing up – adults that had to pretend to be unaffected as she told them about the abuses she’d suffered.  “What’s wrong?  Where’s Louis?  Where’s—“

Each question made Harry’s stomach drop – he didn’t know how to answer them – and his vision started to go blurry.  “Take her,” he begged, handing over the bundle in his arms just in time to drop to his knees and begin hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”  Lottie knelt down so that she was at eye level with him.  It didn’t look like he was having a panic attack, exactly; more that he was just… overwhelmed.  “Just take deep breaths.  We’ll get through this.”  Whatever _this_ was.  “It’ll be okay.”  They took several measured breaths together, but the baby had started wailing as soon as she left Harry’s arms and Harry didn’t appear to be any better off.  They clearly needed each other.  “I think you should try holding her again.”

Harry did a quick assessment of himself and determined that he would be able to handle that.  So he nodded and held out his arms.  “Thank you.”

Lottie bit her lip.  She really didn’t want to upset him like that again, but she really needed to know what the hell was going on with her brother and other niece.  “Harry?  Can I- can you please tell me what’s happened?” she requested as smoothly and non-threateningly as possible.

“I would if I could,” Harry laughed bitterly.  “But I don’t know anything.  Not a goddamn thing.”  He nuzzled his face into his daughter’s blanket and inhaled deeply of her calming newborn scent.  “She was born quick – just a few minutes after we got here.  Then… I dunno, it all happened so fast.  He was in pain, and then- then he was bleeding.  Like, inside.  And she was in distress.  They had to…”  Harry trailed off then.  In all honesty, he had no idea what they’d actually had to do.  What they were still doing or still had left to do.  “I dunno.”

Harry almost looked like he’d already given up hope, and Lottie just could not have that.  “If you know half as much about my brother as you claim to, there wouldn’t be a doubt in your mind about how this turns out.”

“I- what do you—“

“I don’t know how much you know about our childhood – how much he’s told you – but he is strong.  He is strong and stubborn and I’ve seen him get up and walk away from things that would have taken most people out.”  She took Harry’s chin in her hand and forced his eyes to meet hers, willing more certainty in her eyes than she truly felt.  “Louis is going to be fine.  So is his daughter, who is half him.  I believe that with my whole heart, and right now I need you to believe it too.”

Time inexplicably continued passing.  Niall and Liam showed up next, though had to leave for a while after finding out what had happened – now that they were expecting a little one of their own, the news hit them harder and the waiting became a little too much for them.  They eventually came back, with Liam apologizing profusely, but it didn’t matter; their presence or absence had little impact on Harry’s state of unease.

Gemma had told Harry, in no uncertain terms, that she would not be driving in the middle of the night just to meet her new nieces a few hours earlier in their lives, but Lottie must have followed up about the severity of the situation because she barged in sometime around 3am with no makeup, silk pajamas, and bedhead that would have been hysterical in any other situation.  Anne, too, was being kept in the loop, but they all decided it was best if she stayed at home with Rose until they knew anything definitive.

About another hour later, a nurse whisked into the room heading straight for Harry and the room held a collective breath.  “I believe we have a Tomlinson-Styles twin here that is quite ready to meet her daddy.”

“What?  She’s- she’s okay?”  The nurse nodded, and one of the pieces of Harry’s heart that had floated off in limbo now shifted back into place.  “Where is she?”

“Across the hall.  You can see her, but it’ll be a bit too crowded if everyone tries to fit in.”

“Why is she over there?” Lottie asked.

“She’s in an incubator.”  Harry sucked in a breath and steeled himself for the worst – perhaps he should not have been so desperate to grab onto relief – but the nurse was quick to quell his fears.  “She’s okay.  Smaller than her sister, and didn’t have a natural birth to clear her airways so she needed a little extra help breathing for a while.”

“She’s not breathing on her own?”  Harry felt like he would soon be suffering from the same affliction.

“Oh she is – got quite a set of lungs on her, actually.  It’s just a precaution.”

Harry nodded and waited for the constriction in his chest to loosen before speaking again.  “And Louis?”  Silence.  “Is my husband… is he—“  His words got caught in his throat and Gemma was quick to rub a comforting hand up and down his back, just like their mum always used to do when they were frightened or upset.

“I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart.  My job is to look after the little ones, so I left when she did.”  She didn’t have any answers for him, and it broke her heart to see him so defeated and down on what should have been one of the happiest days of his life.  “The last I saw, he was still in surgery, that’s all I can tell you.”

Harry took a few deep breaths and set aside his building anxiety about Louis’ condition.  There was nothing he could do about that at the moment, but there was one thing he could do.  “Can I see her?”

The nurse led him into a room adjacent to the nursery that had become his waiting room.  This one felt a lot more like a hospital room – all whitewashed and chrome, there were more machines and monitors and everything just felt more sterile.  He came upon a clear plastic tube in which he immediately recognized his daughter and covered his mouth to keep from sobbing.

“I know it looks scary,” the kind nurse explained, “but I promise she’s doing great.  It’ll probably be a few hours before they remove all these tubes and wires and you can take her out to hold her, but you can still touch her.  In fact, babies do better when they have skin-to-skin contact.”  The nurse stuck her hand in one of the open holes at the side and pinched one of her little newborn toes.  “See?”

At first, Harry was afraid to get too close to his daughter.  She was like a smaller and more fragile replica of her sister and he thought for sure he would break her.  He was still having trouble even believing that she was here, that she was safe and healthy, and that the cruel illusion would soon be shattered. 

But then she cried.  And it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in the world.  Yes she was small, and yes she was fragile, but she was her papa’s daughter and therefore stronger than anyone gave her credit for.

“Hey, baby.  Hello, love.  Oh yes, you are beautiful, aren’t you?”  Slowly, Harry reached in and his fingertips just barely grazed the bottom of her foot.  She twitched at the contact and cried louder, which in turn set off Harry’s own tears.  “Yes, I know.  Your sister’s been getting all the attention.  But we’re going to change that now, aren’t we?  Yes we are.”

Harry pulled over a chair – he was going to be there for a while – and pressed his forehead against the transparent shell in awe like a little kid at the aquarium.  He made use of the open window and flattened his palm against her chest – almost losing it again when his long fingers easily draped over her sides – and got to know his youngest daughter. 

Though he suspected they were identical, Harry could see the differences in her.  A thinner, sharper nose.  A slightly longer, more angular jaw.  Fuller, poutier lips that was sure to get her out of too much parental disciplining.  His observations were confirmed when Lottie came in a while later and he was able to compare them side-by-side.  This was the first time the three of them were together in the same room – a moment that should have included a fourth – and the thought cranked up the dial on Harry’s emotions.

“I’m sorry.  I know I’m not the Tomlinson you want by your side right now.”

“No, you’ve been… you’ve been so great tonight, Lottie.  I’m just—“  Harry squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if he could shake the weariness and exhaustion from his brain.  “Do you think we could have a minute, just me and the girls?”

“Of course.  Anything you want.”  She placed ‘baby A’ in his arms and kissed him on the cheek.  “We’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” she promised.

For several minutes, there was nothing to break the silence besides the soft beeping of the machines and the harsh sounds of Harry’s breathing.  He didn’t know his heart could hurt this much.  It was too full of too many things – memories and feelings and dreams and fears.  The only thing that brought him any peace, any sense of purpose, was the one baby against his chest and the other beneath his hand.

 “Take my hand, take my whole life too,” he began singing, just like he had to Louis when they had danced to this song at Liam and Niall’s wedding – was that only a few months ago?  “For I can’t help falling in love with you.”  Harry’s dramatic crooning had had Louis giggling and blushing furiously, though he’d blamed it on the hot summer air.  “Like a river flows, surely to the sea.”  Louis had taken these higher notes but his compressed lungs had him gulping for air between phrases, so Harry had joined him so they could belt out the next part together.  “Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

The words got caught in his throat.

_Some things were meant to be._

Harry and Louis were meant to have three little girls, and they were meant to raise them together.  Of that, Harry was certain.  And if there was anything that his relationship with Louis had taught him, it was that fate would find a way.  He just hoped that wherever Louis was right now, he believed that too.

He didn’t know how long he stayed awkwardly hunched over like that – keeping one hand always on his daughter in her plastic bubble and the other in the crook of his arm – or how many times he sang the soft melody over and over again, but by the time the nurse came through the door again both girls were sleeping soundly and Harry was stiff and aching.

It was time to take ‘baby B’ out of her incubator.

All the tension that Harry had managed to release came back in an instant, but he needn’t have worried.  The nurse’s reassurances were true, and there were no alarming sights or sounds as they untangled the newborn from her mess of machines.  Just a soft whine of annoyance and unhappy quiver of her lip.

For the first time – with a little help from the hospital staff – Harry was able to hold both of his twins in his arms.  Tears immediately sprang to his eyes, but he quickly realized he had no way to wipe them away and god, wasn’t that just the best problem in the world to have?

Both babies were now released into the regular nursery, where they were promptly passed around from one eager relative to another.  Liam fed one of the twins and was teased mercilessly by Niall for being terrible at it, but Harry assured him that he would get real good real quick once he had his own. 

Niall, as it turned out, was equally horrible at it, but he simply laughed at the lighthearted jabs thrown his way where Liam had scowled and huffed.  “Pregnancy hormones,” Niall stage whispered to no one in particular, earning another scorching glare from his husband.  “Only proving my point, babe,” he winked.

It was an odd sort of feeling in the room – joyful but somber.  But just as they had started to find some kind of equilibrium, once the sky lightening with the promise of a new day, Dr. Reid entered the room and all activity and witty banter ceased.  Harry stood and, upon closer inspection, noted that she looked as tired as he felt.

“Harry, I think we should talk.”

***

Waking up was... disorienting, to say the least.  The last time Louis had closed his eyes it was the middle of the night and he was in the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life.  Now the sun was streaming through the windows and he was feeling... well, not much of anything really.  He suspected that it had to do with the clumsy numbness weighing down his limbs that suggested a heavy dose of painkillers coursed through his veins.  He would probably feel too much of it later, but for now all he could focus on was the softly snoring figure to his right and the two clear plastic cots next to him.

Still not able to quite properly control his motor functions, Louis could move just enough to reach out and card his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Louis!”  Startled awake by the touch he had, just hours earlier, been convinced that he would never feel again, all the drowsiness immediately left him.  “You’re awake.  I’ll get mum – Rosie’s been dying to see you and the girls.”

“Haz,” Louis croaked.

“Right, first I’ll call the nurse,” he added when he noticed Louis wincing.

But it wasn’t an expression borne from pain – not yet, anyway.  It was because he had spent too long being too far away from his husband.  He couldn’t explain it, but it felt like both a moment and a lifetime had passed since he’d last laid eyes on Harry – like in the span of a blink he had walked through a thousand worlds only to end up right back where he started. 

“Wait,” Louis said, the word crackling on its way out.  Harry offered him a sip of the water by his bed and though it burned a little going down, it was like a balm to his tired voice.  “Just… want it to be the four of us.  Just a little longer.  Please.”

Harry wanted to protest, but he was fairly certain that he would never deny Louis anything ever again.  So instead, he laid his head back down on the bed beside Louis, this time choosing to turn to the side so he could keep looking at Louis.  His eyes were closed, but the gentle rhythm of his fingers combing through Harry’s curls never ceased.

Harry would have been content to stay like that forever, but then Louis started humming absently and he could not help the sob that escaped his throat.

Louis’ hand stilled and his eyes blinked open in concern.  “What?  What’s the matter, love?”

“Nothing, it’s just- that song.  Why were you humming that song?”

Louis jostled his shoulder in what was meant to be a shrug.  “Dunno.  It’s just stuck in my head for some reason.”

“Some things are meant to be,” Harry whispered, the words still fresh on his tongue.

The corner of Louis’ mouth quirked up.  “Hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”  Harry was still looking at him with wistful longing, like he was a mirage in the desert that might disappear at any moment.  Louis cleared his throat.  “So, ehm, what did we name them, love?”

Now Harry was looking at Louis like he was an adorable idiot – an improvement, he supposed.

“We decided that we could each name one once they were here.  You hadn’t picked a name yet, so I obviously had to wait until you could.”

“Who says I haven’t picked a name?”

“You have?”

Louis smiled.  “Isn’t it obvious?”  He knew the moment she was born – it was why he never doubted for a single second that they would all make it through this just fine.  “Hope.  She’s our little Hope.”

“Hope,” Harry repeated.  She had certainly been that for him – an anchor and a promise that good things were still yet to come.  He liked the name, but honestly he was just happy to finally not have to call her ‘baby A’ anymore.  “Of course.”

“And you?”  Harry had known he was destined for another daughter for almost three years now.  And she had followed him from the moment she showed up in his dreams to the moment she showed up on the sonogram.  So Louis highly suspected he knew just what he wanted to name her.

“I thought we could name her... Annabelle.”

Louis cocked an eyebrow – many names had been discussed, but this one had never been on the list before.  “As in Doctor Annabelle Reid?” he guessed.

Harry shrugged.  “Do you think she’d mind?  I mean, we probably wouldn’t all be here right now if it wasn’t for her.”

“I think… it might _almost_ be enough to get her to forgive us for all the trouble we’ve caused her over the years.”  As they continued to gaze down at their sleeping girls, an uncomfortable pull in the vicinity of Louis’ midsection reminded him that it was not all sunshine and rainbows.  “So what’s the bad news?”  At Harry’s perplexed expression, Louis elaborated.  “I mean, something obviously went sideways back there.  Got to be some consequences, I imagine.”

Harry shifted in his chair and glanced toward the door.  “Maybe I should call for Dr. Reid.  I’m sure she can explain it better that I could.”

Harry’s nervousness was making Louis nervous.  “I’d rather hear it from you.”

There was a sad wistfulness in Louis’ tone that tugged at something deep within Harry’s heart.  It was the same tone Louis used when he was describing the parts of his life he felt he didn’t deserve and was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.  “Are you sure you don’t want to rest for a while first?  All this can wait.”

“Please?  I need to know… was it something I did?”  The thought had plagued his mind since he’d put himself into preterm labor months earlier.  He had tried to make improvements, but maybe it wasn’t enough.  Maybe this was his fault.

“No.  No, of course not.”  The fact that Louis was already attempting to take on some sort of blame was a red flag that Harry had to nip right in the bud.  “No one could have predicted this, and no one could have prevented it.”  Louis was unconvinced, so Harry sat on the side of the bed next to him and pulled the two rolling infant beds closer.  “Look.  You delivered two healthy, gorgeous, _loud_ baby girls and they are going to be just fine.”  He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Louis’ forehead.  “And so are you.”

Harry relayed what he could remember of what the doctor told him.  Louis had suffered a placental abruption – sudden and unforeseeable, but not uncommon, especially with multiples (something about the placenta having to do more work for more babies combined with the stress of labor causing it to weaken).

Louis shuddered, a phantom ache running through his core at the memory of the pain of that moment.  “Did that- did it hurt the baby?”

“No, love, she’s perfect.”  He didn’t tell Louis about the fact that this complication cut off the flow of oxygen to the brain and they’d had to run multiple tests on her to make sure her cognitive function was not impaired.  But they had gotten her out quickly and no damage had been done, so there was no point in worrying Louis about things that were found to be normal.  “But… there is one more thing.”

“What?”  Harry sighed and took Louis’ hand, which only increased his anxiety.  “What is it?”

“Well, uhm, there was also… you were bleeding.”  His hand involuntarily tightened around Louis’.  “The abruption was causing you to bleed.  And then… they took her out, they got Annabelle out, but you were still… they couldn’t figure out why you were still bleeding.  You almost—”

Though Louis was the one who had apparently been close to death, it was Harry that needed comforting.  “Shh, I’m here now , love.  Not going anywhere.”  He squeezed back against Harry’s clenched fist, and the weakness in his grip was enough to remind Harry of how close he had been to losing him.

“They had to- after the c-section, they also had to perform an emergency hysterectomy.”  Louis had undergone a lot of medical procedures in his life, but that was not one he was familiar with and he cocked his head in confusion.  “They had to, uhm, remove…”  Harry took a steadying breath.  “You’ll never be able to get pregnant again.”

“Oh.” 

The thought actually saddened Louis, and the reaction surprised him.  It wasn’t like he ever wanted to get pregnant again, but now that he _couldn’t_... well it sort of just felt like he’d lost something precious – the something that had gifted him the greatest treasures he could have ever imagined for his life.  But while he might mourn the loss later, for now he could only be thankful that it had already given him so much.  

With tears in his eyes – happy, ones, he’d decided – Louis looked to his girls, then smiled up at Harry.  “Guess you really will have to carry the next one this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers, thank you so much for sticking with me until the end! I know the last several chapters were a bit slow to release, but it is your comments and encouragement that kept me going. Of course, now that it's done, there may or may not be a third and final installment brewing in my brain... we shall see :)
> 
> Love you all,  
> xx


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